Skinny Love
by Rhonda Night
Summary: Ten and Rose shared a connection they thought would never be broken. This story explores that connection through time and space, parallel universes, new companions, and clones. How could they recover from a love like theirs? Spoilers through season 4.
1. Howl

**This is my first time writing a Doctor Who story, so please be gentle. I've taken liberties with storylines and characters and changed things a bit, but I hope it still somewhat able to function in the time between seasons 2-4. I'm rating it T due to violent situations, but it might be changed to M later on when things develop a little bit more. This story does not go in chronological order, but there is some order to it that will hopefully show up in time. It's going to be kind of all over the place, but the aim is to take a closer look at the relationship between the Doctor and Rose. Since there is no real order to the chapters, I'm naming each entry after the song that inspired that piece of writing. Feedback is always appreciated! -R**

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><p><em>If you could only see the beast you've made of me. I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free. Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart. Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. My fingers claw your skin; try to tear my way in. You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl. My fingers claw your skin; try to tear my way in. You are in the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl. Howl. – Florence and the Machine, Howl<em>

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><p>"It's bloody hot here!" Rose swiped at the damp hair suffocating the nape of her neck, darkened strands clinging to her forehead.<p>

"Two suns," amusement danced across his features as he regarded her, his own skin dry. "Do you want to go back?" She shot him a dirty look and he bit back a grin. "No? You look a little flustered."

"You promised me we'd see the wedding," she panted as the arid ground beneath them developed a slight incline, the red sand slipping beneath her feet. The Doctor took her clammy hand in his own and their progression sped up a bit as he pulled her forward.

"You're going to love it!" He glanced back at her, an unruly stock of hair shielding his eyes. "The royal family will have spared no expense for the princess!"

"And they'll be drinks, yeah? And air conditioning? A fan maybe?"

The ground plateaued and when he released her hand she dragged her fingers across her eyes to cleanse away the sweat. The denim of her shorts clung to her uncomfortably and she shuddered to imagine the state of the cloth beneath her underarms. She tugged at the stubborn material sticking to her chest and attempted desperately to waft some air through her shirt. The Doctor's gaze softened as he watched her.

"Come on," he took her hand again, seemingly unperturbed by the stickiness of her palm, and began to lead her toward a row of tents. "We'll make a stop before we arrive at the ceremony."

A sizable crowd was gathered around the tents, which formed an apparent makeshift market, and as she followed the Doctor's confident lead, Rose took in their elaborate appearance: most wore long robes, rich in earth tones with fine embroidered designs in gold and scarlet. Almost all wore head coverings so that only the skin of their hands and around their eyes could be seen, brilliant shades of sapphire and amethyst embellished with ornate patterns of tattoos. At first Rose had believed the veils to be religious in nature, but now she recognized the pragmatism of them in the acrid swirl of heat and sand.

She watched in fascination as a young boy with deep green flesh and a tuft of black hair bit into a fruit, yellow juice dripping down his chin and onto his tawny robe.

"Oh!" Rose startled and whipped around as she bumped into someone. The women's shockingly violet eyes were even with hers and Rose inhaled sharply. "Sorry," she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away. The air felt suddenly as if it were crackling with electricity. Then the Doctor was pulling her through the horde, too focused to notice the stumbling of his partner. Rose skipped a little to keep pace with his long legs.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?" He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the surrounding tents, seeking something specific that he couldn't locate.

"The people here…"

"The Gamanchet."

"Right, what's their story?"

"They're a nomadic race, been wandering this planet for a millennia, seeking a fabled crystal that contains unbounded riches."

"What, you mean like gold and rubies?" He met her gaze.

"Here the most precious resource is water." He suddenly seemed to locate what he was searching for and they were off, Rose clinging to his hand as they weaved in and out of bodies.

"Are there bad Gamanchet?"

"Bad? Bad is subjective I suppose," he threw a look in her direction. "There are those who travel on the outskirts of the tribe, who don't always agree with the path the princess chooses or who decide to locate the crystal on their own, but the Gamanchet are a peaceful race for the most part."

"It's just, there was a woman back there…"

"Yes?" He stopped so suddenly that she collided with his chest. Hands on her shoulders steadied her and he gave her his full attention. "What about her?"

"I dunno. She gave me this feeling like…" his eyes bore into hers and she paused for a moment thrilled and terrified that he listened to her like this, that he humored her theories and intuition. That more than humoring them, he took her seriously and believed in her.

"It felt like she was looking into me, not at me," she continued. "Like when we bumped into each other she saw my soul." One side of her mouth turned up. "Stupid, I know."

The Doctor nodded slowly. "The Gamanchet believe that certain members of their species are born with what they call 'The Sight.'"

"The Sight?"

"Yes. These individuals are thought to have the ability to bear witness to elements of life that average citizens cannot. No two with The Sight are said to have the same gift, but similar tendencies to be able to, say, sense the direction of the crystal or a new source of water or even catch glimpses of the future."

"Is it true?" Rose breathed.

"I'm not sure. Why? Would you like to have your palm read?" They smiled at each other until he glanced up at the suns. "We need to hurry if you want to see the vows."

Rose sighed but let herself be dragged away by him. "Where are we going then?"

"To get you new clothes. You need a robe."

"A robe?" She tugged at his fingers. "I'm already dripping in shorts and a vest. If I put more material on you're going to be carrying me back to the TARDIS."

His eyes sparkled. "It's not the amount of covering, it's the material. You need something that will breathe, let the air in but keep the sand out. Here we are!" He stopped in front of a tent that looked suspiciously like every other tent he had so easily hurried past, and grinned at the merchant. "Hello! We're looking for a frock for my friend here. Something to keep her cool."

The man turned his eyes to Rose and she shifted uncomfortably as she suddenly became aware of her disheveled hair and the way her saturated clothes embraced her form. The merchant motioned with his head but said nothing and the Doctor smiled at her expectantly. She tightened her grip on him and walked to the back of the tent, and, sensing her apprehension, he followed, rubbing his thumb in slow circles on the back of her hand.

Under the cover of the tent and hidden from the wrath of the suns, the little shop was much cooler than Rose had anticipated and she felt herself immediately relaxing. The merchant approached carrying a small parcel in his arms. He handed the package to Rose and motioned toward an enclosed area to change.

The Doctor put a hand on the small of her back and winked at her. "I'll wait out here for you." She could hear him chatting enthusiastically with the man as she slipped into the sequestered area and began to undress. She chuckled quietly as the familiar lilt of his voice floated consistently through the tent with only half-hearted grunts from the merchant interrupting his ramble.

The robe was simple: crème colored, almost white, with an embellished weaving of fabric and a gentle pattern of red and blue flowers at the hem and sleeves. Rose gratefully striped herself of the sodden ensemble she had been wearing and for a moment stood naked and free. She dipped a towel into a bowl of cool water that sat on a nearby table and held the dripping cloth at her neck, closing her eyes as the water cascaded down the valley of her breasts, the slope of her stomach, and the aching muscles of her calves. She sighed and repeated the gesture at the nape of her neck, feeling the sweat and grime wash away and pool in the dirt by her bare feet.

Her eyes opened as the Doctor's voice flitted back into her consciousness, and she began to scrub herself in earnest, paying particular attention to the areas beneath her arms, under her breasts, and between her legs. Her dewy skin quickly dried and, feeling satisfied, she slipped into the robe, tying the sash at her waist and leaving the hood at her back as she raked her fingers through her hair. The fabric of the tunic felt cool and smooth against her bare skin and she decided to leave her bra off, disposing of it along with her shirt, shorts, and trainers into a barrel, happy to never see the lot again. She slipped into a pair of gladiator sandals the merchant had provided and drew back the curtain, feeling infinitely better than she had been fifteen minutes before.

The Doctor was still chatting with the merchant, following the man at his heels as he stocked some selves with jars of what looked like honey. He froze midsentence when he saw her and stared, mouth agape.

"You look beautiful," he exclaimed. "Much better than that soggy mess you were when we came in!"

Rose rolled her eyes and laughed. "Thanks you git. Now c'mon, we've got a wedding to attend."

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><p>The suns were beginning to set when they arrived at the ceremony, one just barely a glimmer of light and the other kissing the edge of the horizon. The area was adorned with large white canvases embellished with brilliant flowers that filled the air with a fresh scent. Lanterns hung suspended in the air by some mysterious force, flickering with candle light against the threatening dusk. Uproarious chatter built to a steady roar as the crowd of onlookers shifted and jostled each other, laughing and shouting to be heard.<p>

Rose was enthralled by the scents and sounds, the vibrations of the music and voices trembling the ground so that the quiver tickled the soles of her feet, swam through her veins and left her head buzzing. The wind was picking up, causing her dress to whisper against her skin, the large hood alternating between protecting her from view and revealing the majesty before her. Were it not for the firm anchor of the Doctor's warm hand in her own, Rose was certain she would float away like one of those lanterns, slipping through the air and into the clouds.

"Come on," the Doctor pulled her away from the glowing alter and she dug in her heels, brushing shoulders with numerous bodies as he pulled her against the flow of traffic.

"We're going the wrong way," she hissed. "They're going to be standing over there. I want to see!"

Still, she let herself be moved by him, a pout overcoming her features as they relocated further away.

"Here," he stopped and looked at her sullen expression, brushing a knuckle across her cheek so quickly she may have imagined it. "Look now."

She shifted to follow his gaze and her eyes widened as she took in the sight from their slightly elevated position. The view, previously obstructed by the taller bodies of the Gamanchet citizens, was now clear. She turned to him and grinned, tongue peeking from between her teeth, and he smiled back, pleased at her obvious delight.

A sudden hush descended on the crowd and Rose whirled to see what had signaled the change.

"Wha-" She stopped as the graceful whisper of harps reached her ears. Holding her breath, she watched as a shirtless man, his teal chest gleaming, approached the center of the alter from the right just as a woman walked in from the left. She wore a light blue robe with a loose sash tied at the waist. The material hung from her shoulders exposing her amber breasts and stomach. Her hair was braided away from her face, emphasizing the delicate twist of tattoos that sprinkled her forehead and around her eyes. Both were barefoot. As they advanced toward the center of the alter, their eyes locked as if an invisible tether held them together. When they reached the middle, they stood inches apart, palms up and touching, their gaze never wavering. The suns were nearly gone by now, the glow of the floating orbs casting a spell over the crowd. The bride and groom spoke not a word, but their eyes never left each other's, their palms and pads of their fingers brushing. They stood like this for a long time, in complete silence.

Rose could scarcely breathe.

Finally, in complete unity, their fingers shifted and bent, slowly, tenderly so that they were holding hands. Never did their eye contact waver. Lowering their arms, they released one hand each and turned toward the crowd, radiant smiles on their faces. The crowd erupted in cheers and flower petals showered from somewhere above.

The Doctor raised their own intertwined fingers and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Rose was unable to tear her eyes from the newly-wed couple. She realized dimly that she was crying. The crowed began to shift and move as one unit toward another tent and Rose's trance was broken. She looked up at the Doctor in wonder.

"That was beautiful."

His smile shone in his eyes. "Let's go to the party."

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><p>Although the suns had long since retired and a breeze blew steadily, the area under the tent remained humid. The music thrumming around her was sultry and powerful, and Rose let her body sway to the beat, her skin grazing against the slick bodies of those around her. Her hood was off and she tilted her head back, looking up at the roof of the tent, the material so subtle that the night sky shone through. She ran her hands through her hair, down her neck, and over her curves, feeling warm and intoxicated and sensual.<p>

When she lowered her eyes from the stars the Doctor was standing before her, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Hello," she said and laughed although she had no idea why. Her body was still moving, and she wasn't sure it could stop as long as the music continued with that low, rough rhythm.

"Hello." He smiled back, but it was different from his normal gleeful expression. He appeared much more subdued, his lanky body still and his face serious, yet his eyes held something, something different, something she had caught glimpses of before but never in such intensity. She studied him from behind heavily lidded eyes, his image blurry yet sharper than ever.

He held out a glass of ice water and she licked her lips. "I just had another drink."

He tilted his head and looked amused. "That wasn't water."

"No," her body stilled and she placed a shaky hand on his chest, leaning in to whisper, "I think it was alcohol. I think I might be drunk."

There was no mistaking the laughter that sparkled in his eyes now. "I think you may be right." She took the glass from him and gulped it down quickly. Dipping her fingers into the container, she claimed an ice cube and backed away from him, her body once again in time with the music. She ran the ice cube across her lips and down her neck, eyes shuttering and mouth falling open at the painful pleasure of the chill against her overheated body.

The Doctor's hands were by his side but his eyes were on her and even though she couldn't see them, she could feel them, scorching her skin, blazing a trail that followed the path of the water. She felt that thrill again, the bliss mingled with terror, and suddenly it was raining, big, fat drops pouring through the roof. The people around her howled in glee, sounding primal and alive. There was a stampede to leave the tent and she let herself be carried by the mass of bodies until she was in the open field, dripping and howling with everyone else. She opened her mouth to the cascade and drank deeply, spinning around with her arms outstretched, feeling the precipitation soak through her robe and plaster her hair to her face.

A figure entered her vision with every turn and Rose stopped, mid-laugh and approached the woman. "Are you the one who found it?" She panted. "The crystal?"

The woman's violet eyes were stern and she grabbed Rose's wrist and stepped close so that Rose instinctively stumbled back, but the vice grip on her arm disallowed any opportunity for space.

"Brace yourself," the woman hissed and pressed something firmly into Rose's hand. It was a dead flower, withered and void of any color, the petals crumbling in her palm. Rose pulled her hand back but the woman's compulsion was insistent, forcing Rose's fingers around the plant. "Brace yourself," she repeated and Rose cried out as a thorn sliced her finger.

"Rose!" The voice was muffled but close and she turned to locate him. He caught sight of her and broke into a jog, rivers of rain dripping down his cheeks from his hair. Rose turned back to the woman, but she was gone.

"I lost you back there!" He stepped close to her, his sneakers squishing the disintegrating flower into the mud. He bent close to her face so that his breath stirred against her cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she shook her head. "It's just…" she held up her finger to show the smear of red. He reached into his pocket and pressed a handkerchief around the tiny wound. He wiggled his fingers at her and she slipped her good hand into his. They were off then, running and skipping and laughing uproariously at the rain and the strange planet and the joy of being together. She stomped in a big puddle and he wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning around until she shrieked.

The TARDIS was right where they had left it and they scrambled toward it, stumbling and falling in the slick clay, rising covered in the rusty sludge. They reached the door out of breath and still giggling. The Doctor put his hand on her cheek, his attempt to wipe away the dirt resulting in a larger smear. She leaned into his touch and beamed at him and his hand lingered just for a moment. Then, they were inside, stamping their feet and shaking their hair like dogs. Their whoops and squeals filled the ship until they were forced to gulp for air, leaning against each other.

He regained control first, straightening and looking around at the quiet glow of the TARDIS. He watched with serious eyes as she brushed the hair off her forehead and let loose a few lingering giggles. She looked up at him with a smile and he returned it.

"We better get going," he said.

"Yeah," she looked down at herself. "Yeah. What a mess I was tonight, sorry."

"You were magnificent." She bit her lip and he tucked a stubborn strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She watched him from behind her lashes and when his thumb traced her jaw she shivered dramatically. He pulled away.

"You should go shower and get changed into dry clothes. I'll make us some tea."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." She began to walk away and turned back. "On to the next adventure?"

He beamed.


	2. Mad World

_Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow. No tomorrow, no tomorrow. And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. – Gary Jules, Mad World_

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><p>"And so this is the model room where we keep all the specimens we have knowledge about." The soles of his gleaming shoes were clicking louder than hers on the tile floor and Rose made a mental note to invest in some heels. The door swung shut behind her with a bang, and though she spun with a hand out, it was too late to stop the effect.<p>

"You'll probably remember this one."

She turned at his voice and found a Dalek in front of her. Her heart leapt into her throat and she gasped audibly.

"Found four feet deep in ice in the Artic, took ages to gather all the pieces," he continued cheerfully and it was then that she noticed the cracks in the Dalek's armor, the chips missing from its head, glued back together like a sinister puzzle.

The soldier was still walking, chirping away, his voice fading quickly, so Rose tore her gaze away from the empty shell and hurried after him.

"Next," he turned to look back at her, pausing as she struggled for breath. "Next we have our weapons room. Now, you need a level orange access card to get in here. Initially, you'll just be a blue, but I'll let you take a peek anyway."

Rose peered around him into the fluorescent room, noting the cabinets of guns and ominous looking tanks. The panic that was still tightening her chest suddenly shifted to nausea. She pulled away and her tour guide grinned expectantly. She offered him a weak grimace in return.

"Next," he was off again, his stride so long and determined she found herself at a slow jog. "Is the storage area, or the graveyard as we like to call it. That's where you're stationed." He swiped a card in an electronic device near the door handle and, after a jovial beep sounded, ushered her inside. "The graveyard's where we keep all the dead and broken pieces of alien technology we uncover that have unknown origins. Each piece is categorized by date it was found and area in which it was located. The hope is that with your extensive travels with the Doctor, you'll be able to provide some insight into a great deal of the objects we have filed."

The walls of the enormous room were white, the floor shone ivory, even the containers holding the artifacts were bleached. It smelled slightly of disinfectant and offered an oppressive sense of barrenness and sterility. Rose was beginning to sweat, she realized, and focused on breathing, just breathing, not staring at the drawers and drawers and rows of alien life forms and technology that these humans had thrown aside like they meant nothing.

"There's even some stuff down there," he gestured, "about you and the Doctor! Fancy that? You've been categorized as an alien." A squawk on his walkie talkie drew his attention. "I'd better go help them out. I'll be back in a moment. Feel free to explore a little, make yourself comfortable. This will be your job now!"

Alone in the thick air, Rose pressed trembling fingers to the bridge of her nose and exhaled slowly. To be fair, she reasoned, lately every task had been difficult for her, every kind word a catalyst to tears. She straightened her back and took another look around. Things were different here than she was used to, and maybe that meant that she would help change some things for the better and maybe other things would require her to adapt. All she knew was that she wasn't this person who cried and moped about things happening to her, she was a woman who had control over her destiny. God, even that thought brought tears to her eyes. Resolving to take a quick look around so she wasn't in the exact same spot when the tour guide collected her, she began wandering aimlessly from aisle to aisle, brushing her fingers against jars of jellyfish and charred weaponry.

She headed toward the area designated to her travels with the Doctor, wondering how much could have been collected on them. Her file was fairly extensive, probably with the help of Mickey and her father. There were even a few snapshots of her, all of which showed her in some kind of candid pose, never noticing the camera. It was all very impressive and duplicitous.

The Doctor's file, however, was much less substantial. A few simple facts about him, that he was a Time Lord, that he traveled with a companion, and detailed reports of his actions during Canary Wharf made up the bulk of the information. Then, at the back of the manila folder was a photo, taken from a security camera. The black and white image was grainy and blurry. It took her breath away. There he was; one eyebrow arched, a smirk crinkling his eyes, ruffled hair sticking every which way. Not many details could be discerned in the simple image, but she knew them by heart: the sparkle of his brown eyes, the rich tones of his suit, even the scratch of his sideburns, she could conjure up all these memories.

She didn't have a picture of him with her, not a single one. Forced to start her entire life over, new clothes, new friends, new job, that was the one thing she longed for. Because a day would come, she knew, where his image in her mind would fade, where she could no longer hear his voice or smell his scent just by closing her eyes. And on that day, what would she do?

Sweeping her eyes around the room, noting multiple cameras, she tore the picture from the file, taking care not to rip any of the edges. She ran her finger over his smile, imagining the echo of his giggle, and then pocketed the contraband, feeling better than she had in weeks.

"Alright?"

She tucked the files back into their designated space and turned to face him.

"Yeah."

"Brilliant isn't it? All this alien life?"

Rose looked around, wondering what this man so delightedly saw, recognizing only death and heartache herself.

"I bet it was."

The soldier studied her, and for the first time he looked uncomfortable by her stoicism and sad eyes. He had expected her to be impressed.

"Well come on then," he said gruffly. "Time for lunch." She followed him, close at his heels so that she almost ran into him when he stopped and turned to her. "By the way, welcome to Torchwood."

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><p>Stepping into the Torchwood cafeteria, Rose had the bizarre sensation that she had time traveled back to high school. An awkward hush descended on the tables as she entered, carrying a soggy sandwich in a rumpled brown bag. She searched for Mickey, but when she couldn't find him she dropped into a chair at the nearest table and cast her eyes down, away from the prying eyes. She unwrapped her lump of a sandwich and took a bite, swallowing thickly against the tasteless cardboard.<p>

"Hello there."

Rose looked up into a pair of emerald eyes. "Hi," she responded lamely.

"You're Rose Tyler?" Rose nodded. "Pete Tyler's daughter?" Another nod. "Well hello then. Nice to meet you! I'm Samantha." She plopped herself across the table and Rose straightened, '_There we go, my first new friend.'_

"First days are always nerve racking, eh? Did Hank give you the tour?" At Rose's nod, Samantha rolled her eyes dramatically. "What a wanker, that one. So full of himself. We're not all like that here."

Rose laughed through her nose. "Good to know."

She had once been so good at this type of thing, at socializing. She was friendly and outgoing, taking after Jackie, and she found it easy to form connections. She was different now though, and it drove her crazy. She itched to make a joke or ask an insightful question, but instead she fiddled with her water bottle nervously. What did people talk about here? The weather: that was always a safe topic. Lame, but safe. Something on TV, that newest reality show about the married couple who turned out to be long lost siblings. God, when did this get so hard? When did she start holding back, second guessing everything that crossed her mind? Just say something. _Say something_.

"So you traveled with the Doctor?"

Rose froze, sandwich halfway to her mouth. "Yeah," she said briskly, putting the bread down and dusting crumbs from her fingers.

"What was that like? What was he like?"

Rose looked around, noticed that people were watching, listening. "It was alright." She didn't want to talk about it.

"That ship he travels in," a man walked up, cheeks still pink with adolescence. "Is it true it's bigger on the inside?"

"Yeah."

"But how is that possible?"

"I don't know." People were milling around now, no longer trying to be subtle. Rose's heart quickened.

"But what did he say about it?"

"I don't," she faltered, squishing a grape in her fingers, watching the juice run onto the table. "I don't remember."

"What was it like traveling with him?"

"It was…it was wonderful." _God, were those tears?_ She blinked and forced a tight smile.

"Tell us about your adventures then!"

She let out a puff of air, propelling clinging strands away from her eyes. "I'm sorry but I don't really want to talk about that."

"C'mon! One story. Just one. Tell us about your favorite alien."

She looked around then, at all their eager faces and beaming grins, and she opened her mouth and she told them.

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><p>Rose walked briskly through the door, shoulders aching from typing at the computer for so long. She shouted hello to a couple walking out and sat at her usual table, dipping a chip in ketchup and popping it in her mouth immediately, the salt and sweet mixture feeding her energy instantaneously.<p>

A woman walked by in combat boots with a gun holstered in her belt and Rose watched her enviously. Her job was boring and tedious, but she was sticking with it, hoping if she proved herself she'd move up in the ranks quickly, start seeing some action again. Her body yearned to run again, to feel that adrenaline coursing through her veins as something pursued her. Her mind too, felt under-stimulated, weeks spent staring at inanimate objects and plugging numbers and descriptions into databases draining her of energy in a way her travels never had.

"Hi, Rose!" She smiled in response and took another bite. At least she was settling in, only a few weeks here and she'd already made friends, she was fitting in, moving on.

"That's not the way it works though," Samantha slid into a chair and another woman, Jeanie, Rose thought her name was, sat next to her.

"Yes it is," Jeanie argued.

"No, a dog wouldn't react that way. It would be all instinct: food and territory."

"Yes but this dog was infected by the virus. It mutated, gave him human desires: power and relationships."

"What's that then?" Rose asked.

Samantha shrugged. "That carcass of the dog, we've been dissecting it, but the reports of its behaviors just don't add up."

"They do, because of the virus," Jeanie insisted.

"Infections can alter animalistic behavior," Rose said. "When the Doctor and I came across a werewolf in 1879-"

"He wanted to turn the royal family into werewolves, we know."

Rose paused. "Yes, because he wanted that power to-"

"We know, Rose," Samantha's voice was sharp and Rose froze in surprise. "We know the stories, thanks. Enough with it already."

The women continued with their debate and Rose sat in stunned silence. She had been talking about the Doctor a lot in the last few weeks, about his brilliance and the creatures they'd seen, their adventures together. But the Torchwood staff had asked to hear them, practically begged her. She hadn't even wanted to speak about him or their time together, preferring to keep that time locked within herself, safe and treasured. Once she had gotten going, however, it was like she couldn't stop, story after story pouring out of her. Anecdotes about that time he had accidently proposed to a holy priest on a planet that shone gold or about the way he could sense the TARDIS' moods and tinker with her until she was feeling better. They had all listened in rapt attention, pleading for more, requesting every last detail. And it was nice, it turned out, to remember. It was nice to share how wonderful he was, how much she cared about him. She wanted to talk about him; she didn't want to forget. How could they have grown tired of her stories already? She could regale them forever.

She opened her mouth to speak again, and caught Mickey's eye across the room. His face was drawn and serious and there was something swimming in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. God, he was looking at her in just the way she used to look at him when she and the Doctor were leaving for another trip. When Mickey would stand there, forlorn, hands in his pockets, and ask her to stay, and she would look at him and understand that he had no idea, not a clue, of the wonders out there, of how much she loved the Doctor, of how she would never leave him. And she would look at him and know this about him and feel so, so. _Oh_.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see anymore. Because suddenly, she knew, she realized with a pang what that look meant, what that look was. It was pity.

Her chips were a soggy heap in front of her and the women were still discussing Torchwood business. Rose turned toward them and worked to keep her face blank.

She said nothing.


	3. Winter Song

**WARNING: This chapter contains violent situations. There is nothing too graphic, but if that is a trigger for you, you may want to skip this. Feedback is appreciated! Thanks -R**

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><p><em>This is my winter song to you. The storm is coming soon; it rolls in from the sea. My voice: a beacon in the night. My words will be your light, to carry you to me. Is love alive? Is love alive? Is love – Sara Bareilles, Winter Song<em>

* * *

><p>The chains were biting into her flesh; the skin around her wrists and ankles was torn and raw, chunks of it peeling and pink with blood. Still, she pulled at them, biting her lip to suppress the panicked whimper bubbling in her chest. She shouldn't have wandered away from him. '<em>Something doesn't feel right,<em>' he'd said. '_Stick close_.' And she'd smiled and nodded and slowed her step at the tiniest distraction, bent and studied a plant, gone left when he'd gone right. How many times had she deviated from his plan, traipsing all over new worlds and distant galaxies? Trouble found her but then so did he, his eyes wide with worry, brow furrowed with chagrin, and his arms always so, so happy to see her and comforting and safe.

But this time, this time it had been too long. Days, she thought, maybe more. The stone chamber in which she stood offered no natural light, the dank and drafty space was built with no windows so she had to guess at the time of day, the passing of midnights. She was hungry, perhaps hungrier than she'd ever been, and so very, very tired. The relentless tug of her restraints required that she stand, her bound feet just barely touching the damp rocks below. Occasionally, she would sag as her body cried out in weariness and her eyes would close in a faint of exhaustion, but that nip at her wrists would call her attention in minutes, her bent knees would straighten and she would be upright once again, frustrated tears welling but not falling. The hunger and the sleep deprivation were unbearable yes, but the worst, she found, the worst was her thirst. Her mouth became cottony and her tongue thick. She daydreamed of glasses of water, pools of liquid, straining to remember the last time she'd had a drink: That morning so many days ago, just as they were stepping off the TARDIS she had gulped down some tea. Delicious, life-sustaining tea: she trembled at the thought.

She had been looking for the Doctor when they grabbed her, a hand over her mouth stifled her shriek and another around her waist dragged her away. She had the sense just before they came that something was wrong, a pit forming in her stomach, that eerie feeling that everything was too quiet and still, that she needed his hand in hers right then to know that everything was okay. She wasn't even surprised when they snatched her; she even had the audacity to roll her eyes at her own foolishness. She pictured the Doctor's face when he would arrive, all bemusement and relief and exasperation. They hadn't hurt her, not really. Their hands, big green scaly lumps with three thick fingers, had hooked claws that dug into her a bit, but she didn't think they intended to do her any harm. They had thrown her in this cell and chained her up, never uttering a word and she resolved herself to a few uncomfortable hours. She could hear them moving around outside her area, but she couldn't see them due to all the stone. She felt her first flicker of fear when the door slammed shut and plunged her into utter darkness. Her eyes couldn't adjust to the blackness and so she stood and stared at nothing. '_Find me,_' she pleaded silently. '_Come get me._'

Rose was far from being helpless. She prided herself on avoiding the damsel in distress cliché. Sure she got into trouble often, but almost as often she was able to get herself out of it, and sure, sometimes the Doctor had to step in, but she helped him out too on occasion and all in all, she felt it was a fairly equal partnership. It made her cocky sometimes, the sense of power and competence the Doctor had nurtured in her. It wasn't until hours of yanking at the hook in the ceiling, of calling out until her voice was hoarse, of ignoring the hot sting of her own blood, that she slumped and recognized her vulnerability. She was all alone and she was just a girl, a stupid human girl with yellow hair and a big smile, what right did she have to consider herself powerful? What a fool she had been. Her mood fluctuated as she waited, sometimes strength and confidence would well up inside her and she would holler and pull until her muscles strained and shook. When her bladder could not take it anymore and released, she felt something within her break. She shivered in her own waste and for the first time allowed herself to cry. As the days went by, and it really couldn't be that many, she reminded herself, three or four at the most, however, the time between those moments of fire stretched as her body grew weak and fatigued from malnourishment. And she felt afraid and alone and she prayed he was alive.

When the door to her jail finally opened then, on that third or fourth day, she felt relieved to be seeing another living being, even if it wasn't the Doctor, even if it was a pair of eight foot monsters with reptilian eyes and snaggled fangs. She squinted her eyes against the first beams of light and watched as they marched up to her. One of them stood directly in front of her and she gagged a little at his potent smell. He thrust a container to her lips.

"Drink," he said and his voice was not unkind. Rose latched her lips to the cup and tilted her head back, letting the glorious liquid fill her mouth and drip down her throat. She drank until the cup was empty and though she wasn't sated, her eyes widened when the second beast stepped forward and offered her a chunk of meat. Her teeth tore into the food, saliva flooding her mouth. Her restrained hands were unable to lower beyond her head and so she was at his mercy, his yellowed claw scratching her cheek as he dropped bite by bite into her open mouth. She didn't stop to consider what the food was or if there could be poison in it, she barely allowed herself time to chew. A voice at the back of her mind reeled back in disgust at her animalistic behavior, but she ignored it. When everything was gone, she looked up, feeling slightly abashed.

"Thanks," she attempted a smile at the creatures. "That was good." They were looking at her and her face flushed as she realized how she must look and smell, her hair a tangled, unwashed mess, grease smearing her face, her pants ripped and stained with dirt and urine.

"Can I go now?" Her voice cracked with hope.

"No. You are our prisoner."

She licked her chapped lips. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what I've done wrong. Why am I a prisoner here?"

"Trespassing."

"Trespassing? I was trespassing?"

"On the King's land."

"Oh well," she let out a breathy laugh. "I didn't know! I'm sorry I won't do it again! I'm not from here you see-"

"You will be our prisoner until the King decides what to do with you."

Something flared within her. "Well if that's the case, you could at least allow me a bathroom and some food and water! You can't treat people like this even if they are your prisoner!"

They blinked at her and her indignant rage subsided. "Please, please just let me go. I won't bother you again. Look at me, I'm filthy and starving and I'll just leave this place, I swear!" They turned and left abruptly and she howled at the closed door. "COME BACK! PLEASE! COME BACK!"

* * *

><p>When they returned a few hours later, they brought a knife. Her stomach, already feeling queasy from the sudden amount of grease after days of nothing, heaved. She pulled desperately at her chains as they approached, trying to back away from them.<p>

"You don't have to do this," she said and closed her eyes, resolving that if she were going to die here, she wouldn't beg anymore.

Her eyes snapped back open as she felt the tear on the cloth of her shirt. She resumed her struggle as the knife ripped off her shirt and through the material of her bra.

"Stop!"

A hand on the back of her neck made her freeze, the nails tracing the tender veins of her pulse.

"Be still."

And so she stood, chest heaving as they cut off the rest of her clothes, leaving her completely naked and shivering before them. Horrible images of rape and mutilation ravaged her mind. She studied their monstrous bodies and scaly skin; they'd tear her apart! She gasped in surprise when they began washing her, bringing in a bucket filled with sods and scrubbing her filmy skin clean. She winced as the soap dripped into her open wounds and blushed as they cleansed around her breasts and between her legs. To her relief, however, their touch never became sexual. One of them dumped out the bath water in a corner and then put the empty bucket between her legs.

"Begin," he grunted. She stared at him.

"What? No. No I can't. Just let me go to the bathroom, please."

He gripped her shoulder so hard she saw stars. "Begin."

Swallowing hard, she began filling the bucket. When she was done, he placed it on the floor directly below her. He pointed. "Bathroom."

"Right. Thanks."

They left her naked and she was alone again for two days. Her body felt physically better now that it was clean and had some food and water, but inside she was chilled to the bone. How long would she be trapped here? How long until the Doctor came for her? What would the King decide to do with her? By the end of the second day, she was once again starving and dehydrated. She had not slept in so long that for stretches of time she passed out, coming to with numb arms and a splitting headache. In the darkness she began to hear things scrambling around her, hiding in the corners. She listened to them whispering and giggling and they filled her with terror. They brushed up against her and she screamed and twisted but could see nothing.

When her door opened again she could barely lift her head.

"Empty that bucket," a woman's voice snapped. "It smells disgusting in here." A pair of slender legs entered Rose's frame of vision and she lifted her gaze to view a feminine version of the aliens, naked just as she was, although the effect was different. She wore a thin, wire crown and her eyes were hard and cruel.

"So, you are the one with the audacity to trespass on my husband's land?"

Rose's lips moved but no sound came out. She swallowed thickly and tried again. "I'm sorry," she croaked. "I didn't know. My name is Rose-"

A strangled cry escaped her as her head whipped to the side. When she looked back, the Queen was wiping Rose's blood from the back of her royal hand.

"How dare you speak to me."

Rose could feel the warmth of her blood coursing down her cheek and dripping onto her breast.

"Were you alone in your transgression or were others in your company on the King's grounds?"

Rose said nothing. The Queen's hand flashed again and Rose slumped against the blow.

"You speak when unprovoked and remain silent when an answer is demanded? What insolence is this? Answer me: were you alone or are there others out there?"

Rose thought of the Doctor, out there looking for her on a planet so obviously full of dangerous and violent creatures. She hoped he had evaded capture and knew in her heart that he was alive, that he would come for her. She met the Queen's eyes.

"I am alone."

The Queen took a step back. "You see how it looks at me?" The males around her shuffled and nodded, and Rose thought she saw a flash of compassion in their eyes. "Give me the device." When they all remained still, she flushed with rage. "I said GIVE IT TO ME!" Someone handed her a long, thin whip. Rose's breath quickened. "I'll teach you manners you ungrateful beast."

At the first lash, Rose cried out. In the ones that followed, tears streamed from her eyes and she struggled for breath. When the Queen finally left, handing the bloody instrument to a soldier on her way out, Rose was barely conscious, her chin tucked against her chest, watching as though disconnected as a river of blood dripped from her toes onto the stone.

"I'm sorry." One of the men whispered, so quietly she almost didn't hear. Her head raised a fraction and she caught his eye. "The Queen is very angry, very bloodthirsty."

"Help me," Rose whimpered.

"We cannot. We are merely guard for the King. But he comes soon and you will know his benevolence."

* * *

><p>She was given two more glasses of water and one more serving of food before the King arrived in her cell. In that time, the Queen visited her five more times.<p>

* * *

><p>Rose wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious when the door to the room swung open. She tried to look up, but found her eyes couldn't focus and her hair, matted thickly with blood, obscured her view.<p>

"Well hello there," his voice was kind. "Look what she's done to you." Rose winced at the compassion in his voice and peered up at him. Although her left eye was having trouble with dimensions and her right eye didn't seem to be working at all, she took in his form and noted that although he looked like all the other males, he was wearing a crown.

"Are you alright?"

Rose snorted at the question, but it sounded like a sob. She made no answer; she hadn't spoken in days except to scream. The King was looking her over and she knew she must look frightful, her body marred by a crisscross of wounds all in different stages. His eyes darkened and she didn't blame him; she hadn't dared look at herself in a long time but the sight must have been disturbing. Though she was shivering, her face, resting awkwardly against her raised arm felt warm and sweaty, and she had calmly come to the conclusion that infection was raging in her blood.

"Here," he brought a cup to her lips and tilted her head to help her drink. She coughed and sloshed much of the liquid onto herself and him. She braced herself for his retaliation and when none came she blinked at him cautiously. "It's okay," he cooed and smoothed her hair back. Rose's heart lifted at the realization that he was an ally.

Although no sound emerged from her, her lips mouthed the word "please." His smile was gentle.

"It's okay, I'm here now."

A guard appeared in the doorway. "Your majesty, the Queen is ready for you."

His eyes never left Rose's face. "Good."

He made a move to retreat and Rose instinctively followed him, the chains groaning against the strain. He turned back to her, noting the inflamed skin of her wrists. "Relax, girl. I return shortly to release you from your bonds."

At the promise Rose nearly wept and though she was soon plunged back into darkness, she felt the familiar stirrings of hope within her.

* * *

><p>That hope was still burning brightly when the Queen entered her chamber. Rose's breath stuck in her throat. No, no! This wasn't what was supposed to happen! Where was the King? The Queen was much too cruel, much too fond of hearing Rose scream, seeing her bleed. The door widened and the King entered. Rose's heart soared, her savior had arrived. The Queen's lip curled in loathing at the faith etched on Rose's face.<p>

"You see what you've done to her?" The King's voice was different than it had been before, harder, angrier. The Queen ducked her head. "You could have killed her. You very nearly did."

He stroked the side of Rose's face and she leaned into the touch. His hand dipped down and found her naked breast, tracing the curve. Rose gasped and pulled away but his taloned hand was insistent, gripping the weight of her flesh and squeezing until she yelped. He withdrew and she swayed uneasily from the ceiling, confused and freshly afraid. When one of his claws dug at the folds of her vagina, she found that the tears which she had believed her body had run out of were still readily available.

"I accept her. Prepare her for me. I will have her first."

When he stomped out of the room the guards advanced on her. She cried out and backed away. One of them, the sweet one who had so genuinely apologized before, raised his arms and approached her slowly, as you would a frightened animal.

"It's okay," he hummed. "You're safe now. The King has claimed you." At her look of bewilderment he continued. "We weren't sure if he would want you or not since you're such a different species. I think he believes you to be exotic."

Rose shouted and pulled at her restraints, terror giving her strength.

"Stop! Stop now!" He smacked her, much harder than the Queen ever had and her vision flickered and went completely dim for a few seconds. "Had he not wanted you for himself you would have been released into the wild and you know what happens to females out there: they're beaten and murdered and eaten. Here you will be allowed to live as long as you serve the King."

Rose's eyes darted over to the Queen, wondering how this woman, and no matter how evil she was, she was still a woman, could allow such atrocities to be committed upon her own sex. The guard followed her gaze.

"Don't worry, now that the King has claimed you, she will not be able to hurt you as much. You'll still be subject to her punishments of course, but your conditions will improve. Females are subservient. The Queen must heed the King's word. She belongs to him. And be certain, he is a good King, he shares. She serves all of us, as is her duty, as will be your duty."

Rose looked to where the Queen stood, silent and tall and naked. She saw now what she hadn't before, what she had been in too much pain to see. She saw the scars and bruises on the queen's skin. Saw bite marks and scratches and fingerprints on her breasts and hips. Their eyes met, Rose's full of horror and realization and the Queen's full of grim satisfaction.

She stepped forward and hissed into Rose's face, "You are his plaything but I am his wife. Let him take out his aggressions and fantasies on your pink flesh that yields so easily. My own body heals and appreciates the reprieve. But if you think for one second that your head will bear this crown, that I will be tossed onto the street to die, that I will allow them to choke the air out of me so that you may benefit from the protection of my role, you are sorely mistaken."

Rose's mind was reeling. This woman who had tortured her was no Queen; she was a sex slave for the King and all his men. Bile rose like acid in her throat. And she was to be made a sex slave as well, lower even than the Queen, to be raped and used by all these monstrous men and then beaten and starved by a jealous and terrified woman. Flashes of the King's voice and actions rang through her mind, stroking her hair, speaking so softly to her. She had been so certain he was being kind, but no, no he viewed her as a pet.

The guard was unchaining her for the first time since her arrival. She slumped to the ground without the pressure holding her up. She felt the blood rushing back to her extremities and lightness in her head. The guard let her rest a moment and there was a flurry of movement as others left the room to obtain the materials needed. Rose sucked in oxygen and tried to grasp at one solid thought, but found it impossible. Her heart was pounding so quickly, her fear ringing through her veins so intensely that she felt no pain, only light as air, and all she could focus on was how dead the Queen's eyes were, lifeless and hopeless and satisfied.

The guard gripped her arms and made to lift her and suddenly Rose could picture the Doctor so clearly in her mind: his laughing face and tousled hair, the solidity of his hand in her own, and she steeled herself against all of this, against the powerlessness of the last two weeks and the whippings and humiliation and the cruelty. The Doctor would never stand for it and neither would she. If he couldn't be here to stop them, she would rescue herself or die as a free woman.

Seeming to sense her resolve, the guard hesitated and, moving solely on instinct, Rose swung her arms up and over using the weight of the chains to simultaneously knock the guard back and bring her to her feet. She and the Queen stood looking at each other for a long moment, both breathing heavily.

"Go straight through the doors then turn left and follow the corridor to the end," their eyes never left each other's. "Head toward the woods or they'll get you right away."

Rose was off and running before she could think, her bare feet slapping against the stone, she slipped and stumbled at the turn but was up again almost instantaneously, feeling no pain, no pain at all and thinking that maybe she wasn't so hurt, maybe she was going to make this. Her pounding heart was thundering in her ears, the only sound she could hear, and the door was a few feet in front of her and she dug deep within her, thinking no lucid thoughts except: _Doctor, Doctor, Doctor_. And then she was there, and she had a moment to worry that it might be locked before she was out in the blinding sunshine and running across sharp rocks. There was a shout behind her and she lost her footing, falling to her knees. She didn't look back, too afraid to see them gaining ground. Instead, she rose and made for the tree line. Something whirled by her head, striking a tree trunk next to her, but she did not slow.

She ran and ran, lungs burning, ducking under branches and jumping over logs. She was beginning to tire, breath coming out in gasps, feet bleeding, and her legs screaming at her to stop. She continued, however, sure that at any moment they were going to grab her and she would surely die.

"Rose!"

She ran, blind, twigs scratching at her face. The ground was damp with a light covering of snow, the leaves on the forest floor soggy so she slid and tumbled, rolling on the ground, rising covered in muck and whirling in confusion, uncertain in which direction she was headed.

"Rose!"

She took off again, a stitch in her side, head throbbing. The forest was spinning around her and she had a sudden, bizarre sensation that she was going to vomit. Her feet were flying beneath her, the foliage a blur on her sides. For the first time, she dared a look behind her and saw nothing but the woods.

Abruptly, all the air was knocked out of her as she ran, full force, into a solid body, arms wrapping around her, halting her forward progression. She screamed and thrashed, throwing her fists and legs as forcefully as she could, biting and snarling, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Rose! Rose! It's okay, it's me, I've got you!"

She froze in his arms. "Doctor?"

"Rose." She slumped against him, suddenly exhausted and aching.

Voices approached, loud and angry and she clutched the Doctor tightly.

"Please," she whimpered, eyes searching his face. "Please don't let them get me."

His arms were secure around her and as they approached, he took in her bloodied and bruised nakedness. He shrugged off his coat and tucked it gently around her shoulders so that her modesty was regained. Taking her face in his hands, he smiled tenderly.

"You're safe now, you understand? I'm here." She nodded briskly and then they were upon them.

A crowd of about twenty stood before them, jostling each other and shouting. The Doctor had his arm around her, supporting her weight.

"Enough," the Doctor's voice was calm and quiet, a deadly combination that Rose recognized. "Who is in charge here?"

The King stepped forward, the Queen taking delicate steps to stand beside him.

"Right then, we're leaving. I suggest you don't try to stop us and I'll show you some undeserved mercy."

The King took another step toward them. "You cannot take her, she is my concubine. She belongs to me."

The Doctor's eyes flashed. "You will not touch her," he gritted out. "She is Rose Tyler and she belongs to no one but herself. This is your warning: stay away from us, let us leave and no one will die here."

At the silence that followed, he turned Rose to go. Furiously, the King reached out and grabbed her arm. Rose cried out and the Doctor whirled, knocking the King's hand away from her and pulling out his sonic screwdriver. The King sneered at him and raised his own weapon, a sophisticated looking gun.

"Are you willing to die over an insignificant whore?"

The Doctor's jaw was clenched. "I did warn you," he said. "I won't let you touch her. Any of you."

The King's finger tensed on his trigger and the sonic glowed a brilliant blue. Suddenly, and without warning, the weapon in the King's hands exploded, taking him along with it. The Queen screamed and dropped to her knees. Rose's blood was on her skin. The Doctor's eyes narrowed.

"Did you hurt her?" He took a step toward the woman. "DID YOU HURT ROSE?"

Beside him, Rose's eyes were squeezed shut. Her hand, trembling and dirty, softly touched his. "Don't," her voice was a whisper. "Leave her. Let's leave, please."

Immediately, the Doctor's arm dropped. He picked Rose up, her arms wrapping around his neck and they walked away without looking back.

* * *

><p>The medical bay on the TARDIS was well stocked and the Doctor well-versed in injuries such as the ones Rose had sustained. Still, his hands shook slightly as he unwrapped her from his coat. Her body was layered with blood and dirt so that he couldn't tell the extent of her injuries. Rose flittered in and out of consciousness, realizing she was naked for the first time in front of the Doctor, but unable to muster up the energy to care.<p>

"Doctor…" she moaned and he held her hand. He was trying to keep his face blank but she saw all the emotion in his eyes: the rage and sadness and guilt. She made a move to cover his eyes, to shield him from what was causing him pain, but her coordination resulted in her hand resting on his cheek, stroking, feeling the proof that he was real. "I knew you'd come," she whispered and smiled through the pain, letting herself be carried away, knowing the Doctor would heal her.

* * *

><p>"Where were you?" It was meant as a casual question, a gentle expression of concern for what happened to him while they were apart, but it came out as an accusation, full of fury and betrayal. She had been awake now for three days, the infection gone, bruises and cuts almost healed with the help of the TARDIS technology. The Doctor was with her every moment, feeding her soups and breads, holding her hand, and making her smile. All the while his watched her with a look of desperation.<p>

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." And she knew he meant it, knew it was not him she was angry at, that really she was not angry at all, but terrified and shamed. And just like that, she was in his arms, face pressed against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and whispered like a mantra that he was looking for her and that he was sorry, that he would keep her safe. His hands pulled her tighter against him and when they brushed against the scars on her back she did not flinch for the first time in weeks at someone else's touch. She felt the first tiny fissure of healing within her.

"I know you were. I know. You'll always find me."

She realized in that moment that she was not the same anymore, that it had been coming for some time, that she was not that nineteen year old silly thing who took his hand and ran without a care in the world, without a second thought or knowledge to build fear. And he was not the same either, no longer with the goofy grin and the skipping feet and eyes full of wonder. Sometimes those past selves emerged, revealing themselves in giggles and stolen moments, but they were changed forever and there would be no going back. But at least they would have each other, she was warmed by the thought of that and she kissed his temple softly and let her lips linger, crossing that invisible line that she never had before and he stilled against her and she could feel his breath stirring against her ear and it was all so innocent and they were so, so damaged. She pulled back and looked at him and he looked so afraid and suddenly he was the child and she was the Time Lord and she smiled and brushed the lines from his face.

"We'll always find each other."

And she was ready for him to help her heal.


	4. Make You Feel My Love

_When the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there is no one there to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years to make you feel my love. I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong. I've known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in my mind where you belong. - Adele, Make You Feel My Love._

* * *

><p>Rose knew it was a dream. Usually she didn't; she tended to wake up smiling or choking on a sob, the aura clinging to her, dipping on the outskirts of her mind until she'd had a cup of tea and managed to shake it off, or at least push it down. This time, however, she recognized the greens too green, her step too light and she laughed aloud. There was a smell of apples in the air and she thought she must be on New Earth, but then there were those trees with purple leaves that tasted like bananas that the Doctor loved so much and if she looked across the bay she could see her mother's flat, so it must have been a combination of her subconscious. She walked about aimlessly. No one was around and she was not sure why her mind plopped her here, but there was a nice wind blowing and so she smiled at the feel of the sun on her face and walked over to one of the trees.<p>

"The burblesnaf trees? Oh brilliant! I'm so glad you put these here!" She turned around mid-reach to find the Doctor grinning broadly at her. "Lovely idea, Rose!"

"Thanks," she smiled back. "Mind getting me one then? They're a bit too high."

"Or you're just a bit too short." She pushed his shoulder playfully as he walked by and he laughed and grabbed four of the leaves down. He handed her one and immediately bit into another. Rose's eyebrows arched.

"Three for yourself?"

"I haven't had these in ages," his mouth was overflowing. "I wish I had thought to put them here. Good thing you're an excellent dreamer."

"Thanks," she raised the leaf to her lips. "Hold on. You know this is a dream?"

"Course." He was well into his second leaf by now.

"That's weird."

"Why?"

She blinked. "Well, I've never really known a dream is a dream while I'm in that dream. And then had a conversation about that dream with the dream Doctor."

"Well I'm not the dream Doctor," he was licking his fingers slowly. "Am I in your dreams often then? Apple grass too? Well done." He sprawled out at her feet, running his hands over the blades of green.

"Thanks. And yeah, course you are, you're a big part of my life. Aren't I in yours?"

"I don't sleep very often, but yeah, I guess you are."

"Hold on," she was speaking slowly, suddenly catching up to their conversation. "Did you say you're not the dream Doctor?"

He propped up on his elbows. "Right, no, I'm not. I'm the real thing. Well, when I say the real thing I don't mean the real, real thing of course. Well, what I mean is my mind is real. You gonna eat that leaf?"

"The real Doctor?" she snorted. "Don't be daft. You're not real. You're a figment of my subconscious…or something."

"No, no," he was still gazing at the leaf in her hand. "I'm not. I am actually me."

She stared at him hard. "A dream Doctor would say that too."

"Would he? Lying pratt."

"You're taking the mickey out of me."

He cocked his head and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'd rather not think of that." She was still watching him wearily. "Right, Rose," he grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit next to him. "What do I do to make you believe me? Should I tell you the first thing I said to you was 'run' again? Oh, the dream version of me would probably know that too. Look, you're just going to have to trust me; it's me. Here," He took her hand and laid it on his chest so she could feel the dance of his heartbeats beneath her palm. Radiating through his shirt was the warmth of his skin and the solidity of his flesh and he felt too real to be a dream, this was all too real. She pulled back, alarmed.

"Doctor?"

"Hello!"

"Am I dead?"

"What? No! No, no course not! You're asleep, safe on the TARDIS. I am too. We're co-dreaming."

"Co-dreaming?"

"Yeah, we were both having a dream and they merged so now here we are together, our real minds, but in a dream."

"We've never done this before."

"No well," he broke off a piece of the leaf, still untouched in her hand, and popped it in his mouth. "I don't sleep much do I? And it's the TARDIS that does it. She builds this connection between our minds, you know how she's in there translating?" Rose nodded. "Yeah well so she's in our minds a bit and she can build this kind of bridge between us so we dream together. Takes her a while to do it and she doesn't do it with everyone. She really likes you!" He bumped her shoulder and reached to take another bit of her leaf. Rose drew back and gave him a look.

"Watch it! You've already had three. You'll give yourself a sore stomach! So this is a dream, but it's really you?" He nodded. "And really me. Cause I feel more in control of this than I usually do in dreams, like in most dreams I'm usually just along for the ride, you know?"

"Yes, well in these dreams the TARDIS makes our brains more active so we can make decisions and interact."

Rose took a bite of her leaf and reeled back. "Blimey! This tastes real, like, really real!" She took another bite and the Doctor smirked.

"Mm, everything's a bit more vivid in these dreams, we can really taste, really feel. It's like we're awake and walking around but our bodies are resting. It's great fun, but our minds won't be as rested when we wake up."

"So did I really just consume that leaf? Like, am I going to have those calories? If I hurt myself am I going to wake up with a sore whatever?" She offered him the last bite and he took it gratefully.

"No, no, it just feels real to the mind. You experience all your senses, including pain, more keenly in these types of dreams because your brain thinks it's real, but then you'll awaken. The body doesn't experience it."

"Well that's fantastic! Well, not the pain part, but getting to control our dreams? I wish the TARDIS had done this to us sooner!"

"Well building the bridge and all that…"

"Plus you don't sleep enough!" He pouted and she laughed and ruffled his hair.

"So let's do something! Explore. What can we do in a dream?"

"What can we do in a dream?" He looked at her incredulously. "Must I remind you that you, my dear, are co-dreaming with me, the ultimate adventurer, a professional dreamer, some might say. What can't we do?"

They both hopped up and Rose looked at him expectantly. He gazed around and breathed deeply of the fresh air, rubbing his full stomach. He glanced back at her and started, realizing she was waiting.

"Oh! Right," he mused his hair thoughtfully. "Something dreamy…dreamy, dreamy, dreamy. I know!" He took her hand. "How about this!"

He jumped, his long legs making exaggerated kicks, and she had a moment to snort before he was pulling her along with his movement, pulling her, she realized, up and into the air. Rose screeched, a sound somewhere between a scream and a laugh, and clutched at the Doctor's hand, his long fingers twisting with hers. They went up and up, and the Doctor was smirking at her, but all Rose could do was gasp and stare at their feet, dangling high above the ground. The landed softly on a cloud, the puffy cotton snuggling against her trainers and ankles and she gaped at the Doctor.

"We can't fly! And we can't, we can't land on a cloud! They're just vapor! We should be falling right through."

He rolled his eyes and stooped to pick up a tuft of fog, rolling it between his palms and tossing the resulting globe toward her head, giggling as she sputtered at the explosion of dew around her cheek.

"Stop being so scientific," he scolded.

Rose crossed her eyes to get a better look at a droplet hanging on the end of her nose and then froze.

"Hold on, did you just tell me to stop being so scientific?"

He was rocking on his heels, bouncing a little, experimenting with the buoyancy of the cloud. "Yes," he pulled a bit of cloud from her hair, the white strand wisping through his fingers. "It's a dream. The best part is that we can do anything. No rules."

"No rules?" She stuck her tongue between her teeth and grinned. "Alright then, follow me." She took a running start, her momentum jouncing the Doctor, spread her arms and leapt. She kept her eyes open as she flew, the wind teasing tears and enlarging the smile on her face. She landed with a grunt on the next cloud over, an impossible distance, and looked back at the Doctor, laughing aloud at his look of incredulity.

"Oi!" She shouted, cupping her hands around her lips. "Come on then slowcoach! No rules!"

"But there's a much closer cloud that way," he whined. Another laugh tumbled from her, loud and guttural, coming from somewhere deep within, and she realized that she was completely, incandescently happy. His own face was glowing as he watched her, betraying the fraudulence of his lament.

"What's the worst that could happen," the wind carried her voice back to him, distorting it, making it quiver. "You fall out of bed?"

Hands on his hips, he peered over the edge of his platform and regarded the grass far below. "You know, sometimes I get the distinct impression that you want me to regenerate."

"I want a ginger! They're so much more adventurous!"

His eyebrows rose to his hairline and she caught a flash of his dimple before he was hurtling toward her, kicking up bits of cloud as he skidded to a landing, somehow wrapping his lanky arm around her waist and hauling her with him as he jumped to the next cloud. The bounced from one to the next for some time, whooping and yelling, their bodies colliding and tangling, bounding apart, tossing poorly aimed globs at each other, until they collapsed in giggles next to each other. He lay on his back, body shaking with glee, and she watched him from her side, their legs a snaggled mess.

"This is fantastic," she breathed. He nestled deeper into the cushion and smiled. Rose dipped her hand into the fleece, the cool cotton running down her wrist. "I wish….God I wish…" she trailed off wistfully, taking in the majesty of the sky around them, unable to form a coherent thought.

"It's not real," the Doctor's voice was suddenly stern. "It can never be real." She blinked at him, taken aback by the shadows in his eyes, and then he sat up, brushing bits of cloud like lint from his arms and hands, and the moment was gone. He crawled onto his knees and hunched over. "Here," he said and handed her a lump that looked suspiciously like an all-white ice cream cone. He watched her expectantly. "Try it," he urged.

Narrowing her eyes at him playfully, she stuck the tip of her tongue into the fluff. "Oh," she covered her mouth in surprise. "It's mint chocolate chip! How did you do that?" Her eyes were wide with wonder and he smiled delightedly.

"I didn't, you did. Your subconscious knows what you want it to taste like so your brain made it happen. Brilliant isn't it?"

"Unbelievable!" She swirled her tongue around the cone again, closing her eyes in bliss.

At a sudden clap of thunder, she looked around. At first she couldn't decipher where the sound had come from and then she saw, far in the distance, a giant black cloud. Lightening erupted from it, but no rain seemed to fall, and beneath the haze, the ground glowed an ominous red, smoke flickering up: a fire.

"Oh," Rose murmured. "What is that? I don't think that's me."

"Nope that's me," he said casually, his eyes never straying from her evaporating cone. "Here," he took a puff of cloud and rolled it in his palms as he had before, this time leaning in to breathe lightly into it until it took on a dull grey hue. Without looking, he tossed it over his shoulder, shooting it across the sky. It slowed, as if by some unseen force, and hovered over the fire, releasing soft rain until the flames were quieted and the angry storm cloud dissipated.

"Oh," Rose said again, and the Doctor didn't meet her gaze. Instead he pressed his hand into the cloud, watching with apparent fascination as it took his shape. "So most of this is my dream," she ventured.

"Yeah."

"And that was yours."

"Yep."

"Yours was a nightmare."

He shrugged and Rose's stomach twisted uncomfortably, a lump forming in her throat. He had been having a nightmare. A nightmare or a _memory_. She opened her mouth to say something, to comfort him or ask about Gallifrey, show him that he wasn't alone, but then she took in the rigid swell of his shoulders, the mock nonchalance of his picking fingers, and she closed her eyes for a long moment.

"Well good thing I know how to decorate my dreams so well. Like I invited you to a party."

"Yeah, thanks for that," he tossed her a half smile.

"No prob."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Is that why you don't sleep often?"

"I don't need much sleep." His answer was not unkind, but left no room for further discussion. She nodded silently and dangled her feet over the edge of the cloud, watching a flock of birds fly by them.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, glancing at her and then looking away. "Sometimes that's why."

She studied his silhouette, the strong line of his nose and the delicate slope of his chin, and she smiled gently. "Well I'm always here to share mine with you."

She reached her fingers out, finding his hand lying open, palm up, as if he had been waiting for her the whole time.


	5. My Body is a Cage

Thanks for all the reviews and messages guys! They mean a lot to me! Just to clarify some confusion, some of the songs I put up are not the original versions, but remakes. That doesn't mean I don't love the originals, but that I just happen to be listening to that particular version when I wrote the chapter. Please keep sending your questions and comments! - R

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><p><em>My body is a cage that keeps me from dancing with the one I love, but my mind holds the key – Arcade Fire, My Body is a Cage.<em>

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><p>The door was shut. That was her first clue that there was something behind it that she wanted to see. Generally, as a rule Martha liked to respect boundaries and privacy, but she had another rule: to learn as much as possible. She was curious and she had a million questions about life and the universe and although traveling with the Doctor had answered some, it had also created so many more. A few months ago she never would have believed in aliens and time travel and men with two hearts. But now she saw things differently and she wanted to know. She wanted to know <em>him<em> most of all but he seemed adamant that she never would, always keeping himself at a distance, all cryptic messages and shifting eyes. So she pried and she asked questions and refused to give up and sometimes, very, very rarely, he would see her, actually see her instead of looking through her in search of someone else. And in those moments, when he was open and honest and she was Martha Jones, a brilliant medical student and not some temporary replacement, she loved him.

The Doctor was like fire, capricious and consuming and breath-taking, and those who stood too close, who got in his way, were sure to be scorched. But Martha wanted to get burned. She had spent her entire life being the responsible one, the sensible one, making good marks, soothing battles between family members, putting romance and fun aside for textbooks and lab coats. She was ready now to be devoured, to lose herself in the thrill of running hand-in-hand and lying side by side. She had a lot to offer, she knew. She wasn't bad to look at and she could be quick with a joke and, let's be honest, she was sharp as a whip, even when she was being modest. Yet after all these days and weeks of travel, he was no closer to her than he had been on day one. His eyes were so haunted and though he give her glimpses of the ache he so obviously carried, oh yes there had been a time war, and yes his last companion was gone, he seemed to hold onto his hurts with such tenacity, such ferocity, it was as if no matter how much they made him bleed he'd rather the pain than the contentment moving on could offer him. He thought she didn't know, that his bright smiles and energy could disguise the emptiness within, but she saw. And she wanted to know more. She wanted to help him, to understand what he needed because after all he'd done he deserved to be happy. And if she were a little jealous of the mysterious Rose, if she wanted more information if only to compare, to recognize where she fell short, could she be blamed?

The door never moved. Doors were usually open here, with the Doctor so quickly racing to and fro, and they never seemed to be in the same place she'd left them. The TARDIS, she knew, was not just another piece of machinery, but a living being with thoughts and emotions and ideas and often a sense of humor. On more than one occasion, Martha had rushed to the loo, desperate after all that time on some planet running around, only to find herself in a broom closet or the library. She'd gotten used to it, and even liked it, but this one door, this simple plank of wood never moved. Something important was in the room, something treasured by both the Doctor and the TARDIS, and since she was sharing her life with them she supposed she deserved to know on some level.

The Doctor was off doing repairs in the console room, an "all day project" he'd chortled. So, Martha was left to her own devices and feeling a little mischievous and more than a little fed up with all the secrets lurking in every corner.

With a glance around, _'not like he pays attention to me anyway,'_ she grasped the doorknob. It felt warm to the touch, and she almost withdrew, feeling slightly disturbed by the sense of life emanating from the object. Realizing that this was probably a good sign, an indication that the room was even more special than she'd imagined, she steeled herself and turned. It was locked. She pushed with her shoulder but there was no give.

"Can you help me out here?" She said aloud to the air, feeling foolish. The Doctor always spoke to the TARDIS as if it were alive and his friend, '_she_,' he always called it. _'She's not feeling well_,' or '_She's got a lot of fight in her today_!'

"Hello?" Martha said looking around. "I just want to see. Can you open it?" She tried the door again but it remained locked. The TARDIS seemed to hum a little louder or had she imagined that?

"You don't want me to see either? You're in it with him; one big conspiracy to shut me out." Frustrated, she dug into her pocket for her ID, hardly ever used now but always with her in case she ever needed proof of who she was, what species. "My brother taught me this," she bent and bit her lip, jiggling the card at the bolt. "I've got skills neither of you know about." She wondered for a moment if the TARDIS would react in some way, put on another deadbolt or alert the Doctor that she was mucking around where she shouldn't be, but no, the locked clicked open and the echoing clangs of the Doctor's fiddling continued.

"Right then," she stood and took a breath, straightening out her shirt. "Here we go."

The room was dim but she could make out vague shapes in front of her. What was this place? Not the Doctor's room; that moved around. Though hardly ever used, she'd seen him going in and out a few times, always shutting the door behind him and never inviting her in. Valued his privacy, that one. So what was this? An office, a supply area? It smelled faintly of perfume and the effect was not unpleasant. Was this a place where the Doctor brought suitors? Wooed them and romanced them? She snorted aloud at the thought. If only she could find….there: a light switch.

The room flooded with a glow and Martha blinked. This was not what she had suspected. It was a bedroom. A simple, typical, slightly messy bedroom. Probably a woman's, she noted, what with all the gentle colors and artwork. The bed, a large wrought iron one, was in the far corner, pushed against the wall. It was unmade; the dark purple duvet flung back as if the owner had jumped out in a rush, too preoccupied to worry about aesthetics.

Martha's brow furrowed and she took a few steps into the room, stepping over a pile of clothes and heading to a nearby desk. There was a cup of half-drunk tea and a dog-eared book on the edge. Martha picked it up and thumbed through the pages, some sort of romance novel, taking place on a planet she had never heard of. Placing it back, she ran a finger over the wood, bringing it back up to her face to inspect. Funny, this room had been here for months, maybe longer if it had existed before she came aboard, and never had she seen the Doctor enter or even look at it, yet there was not a speck of dust.

"Keep it clean do ya?" The TARDIS didn't respond, but Martha knew it was true. She just didn't understand why, why it was kept clean but not cleaned up, why it was locked, and why it never moved.

There was a simple cork board hanging on the wall and she went closer to inspect it. It was cluttered, items overlapping items, all mismatched and random. There was a yellowed newspaper clipping about the Queen's coronation in 1953, a sketch of a giant wolf-man, a drawing of a solar system (not the Milky Way), a dried out flower, and a receipt for chips in 2005, among other things. Martha took it all in, trying to discern some kind of pattern. She moved a ripped sheet of music to the side to get a closer look at a picture. It was bent at one corner, and showed an older blonde woman with heavy eye shadow standing beside a young African-American man grinning broadly. Next to them, with an open-mouthed laugh and a blurry hand, as if she were waving at the camera-person, was a blonde girl. Martha traced a finger over the girl's smile.

"Hello, Rose Tyler," she said. So this was Rose's room. Martha took another look around with new eyes, noting the jacket draped over a chair, the pile of make-up in front of a vanity mirror, the half-open closet with trainers peeking out.

"Well she certainly wasn't cleaner than me."

She moved back over to the bed, sitting on it with a sigh. She gave an experimental bounce, _comfortable_, and looked around. The pale blue walls were decorated with posters and unearthly artwork. It was all very typical and didn't really give her the insight into the Doctor she had been hoping for, other than to tell her that Rose had obviously mattered to him very much. That she already knew.

There was a small stuffed cat in a nurse's uniform wedged in the top drawer of the night stand and she tugged at one of its ears until it came out. Not exactly a sophisticated decorating style. Moving to get up, she placed the stuffed animal back in the drawer, freezing when something caught her eye.

A notebook. A simple, leather-bound book. A diary.

She hesitated. No matter how curious she was, she wasn't the type of person to read another person's secret diary, especially the one of a girl who was who knows where. She closed the drawer firmly and made to leave, but stopped at the door, considering. She had already come this far, broken these unspoken rules, what was stopping her from going a little further? It wasn't like Rose would ever know and she wanted information so that she could help the Doctor, make him feel better, understand where he was coming from. Rose would probably appreciate it. Reading every emotional word would be too far, but a quick skim to get the gist? One could hardly blame her.

She walked quickly back to the drawer and pulled out the text. Before she could change her mind, she opened to a random page and began reading. Catching a sentence here and there, she flipped around and took in bits and pieces:

'_A new face and it's so weird like a new person but not. I don't know what to think or where I stand. Still, in his eyes I see him.' _

'_So embarrassing even though it wasn't really me. A kiss, the second time technically although the first for us.' _

'_Can't believe she really said it though. The Doctor was so sure she wouldn't. Can't wait to tell Mom I'm a Dame.' _

_ 'Been having that dream again, the one about the Devil. The Doctor keeps telling me it's nothing, that it was all a trick, but I think he's worried too. '_

_ 'I miss her too, but Mum needs to understand that this is my life now and I love it. I want to travel with him forever.'_

"What are you doing?" Martha jumped and turned to face him. His face was blank, but as he strode toward her, she found herself shrinking back. He yanked the diary from her hands. "This is private. Everything in here is private," his voice was low and serious and her brain grappled for words.

"Sorry," she stammered. "I just wanted to see-"

"What did you touch?"

"Nothing!" At his look she continued, "That picture on the board and, and the cat in the drawer. I sat on the bed."

He stalked over to the board and tucked the picture back under the music sheet, running the tip of his finger over Rose's smile quickly, just as Martha had done minutes before. He moved to the bed, walking around Martha so swiftly she spun to keep up, and tucked the diary and cat back into the drawer, closing it with the head out in exactly the position it had been. He swiped at the bed sheets violently, as if desperate to get any trace of Martha off of them. She felt something swell within her.

"Look I'm sorry but-"

He whirled on her. "What else?"

"Nothing."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "What gives you the right?" Now his voice was rising. "What gives you the right?"

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to see what was here."

"And going through her things? Reading her diary?"

"I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I just wanted…"

"What, you wanted what?"

She was a little afraid, he had never been so angry with her before. "I just wanted to see what made her so special. What goes on in your head."

He looked away, chest heaving.

"Do you do this with all your companions' rooms, preserve them like this?"

"No," he said and met her eyes.

"Just Rose then."

At the sound of her name, he stepped forward, gripping her arm and pulling her out of the room. He closed the door behind them and used the sonic to lock it.

"Stay out of there." His face was so close to hers she could see every tiny freckle across his nose. His hand was still on her elbow, just a little too tight. "Her room is private. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I know, I know. Me too." He released her and she stumbled back. His bedroom door was now directly across from Rose's and without another look he entered, slamming the door behind him. Martha stood, alone, and looked between the two doors, the space between them seemed vast and yet she felt claustrophobic.

Hurt and embarrassed, she called out, "if you would just talk to me!" When there was no response, she continued speaking to his closed door, softer, not sure if she wanted him to hear or not. "Maybe you'd find I'm just as special as Rose Tyler. Maybe even more." She looked at Rose's door remembering the look of raw pain on the Doctor's face as he had touched the picture, remembering the last line of the diary she had read: '_this is my life now and I love it. I want to travel with him forever._'

"Where is she then if you loved each other so much? Where is she?"


	6. A Thousand Years

**So I've gotten some messages basically begging me not to have TenToo called "John" in this story. I understand the aversion to that since the duplicate Doctor is a clone of Ten and people think he and Rose would acknowledge that. I just want to remind people that may have a problem with "John," that this particular story goes out of order so things that occur in these earlier chapters may be explained or elaborated upon in later chapters so there's usually a reason behind the choices. That being said, in _this_ chapter, TenToo is called "John." Sorry if that upsets anyone, but later chapters will go into it. Thanks for the messages and reviews! –R **

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><p><em>How can I love when I'm afraid to fall? But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow. One step closer. I have died every day, waiting for you. Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more. – Christina Perri, A Thousand Years<em>

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><p>"Rose! Oh God," his brown eyes widened as he took in the horror before him. "No," he whispered, unable to tear his gaze away, leaning closer, then gasping. "Rose!"<p>

She skidded into the doorway. "What is it?" She took in the scene, scanning the surrounding area for whatever had caused his panic. "What?" She repeated.

He turned to her, eyes like saucers and pointed, speechless. Rose wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Look," he croaked out. She shuffled closer and followed his gesture.

"Oh," her breath caught and she blinked. There was dead silence for two seconds. Three. She burst out laughing.

"Wha?" He gaped at her. "What?" Whirling back toward the mirror, he narrowed his eyes. "This is a lot of things, Rose Tyler, and funny is not one of them."

"Sorry," she was still giggling and she tried to reign herself in, leaning her body against his, tucking her hand up the back of his shirt to rest against the flush of his skin. "It's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say," he sniffed, only half-joking. Her smile was gentler now.

"It's only a couple grey hairs."

"Three. It's three. Right at the front!" She took a step back, and he scrubbed a hand across his mop aggressively and then glared at himself, breathing a little harder than usual. He took in his morning stubble, the few extra pounds he'd put on lately, the _hairs_. "Don't really know what's going on here," he motioned toward his entire body and she bit her lip.

"You're at that age now," she murmured.

"I don't even know how old I am."

"Thirties," she responded promptly, and he stared at her, making an impatient gesture. "Mm…thirty-five," she suggested and his nose crinkled in disgust.

"Younger than that," he protested.

"Your passport says you're 35."

"Well that's fabricated. If you'll recall, we were in a bit of a rush when a year was decided upon."

Her head cocked. "How old do you want to be then? Thirty? Twenty-one? Three? You can play around with Donna."

"I dunno," he stole another glance at the mirror. "I'm in my nine hundreds and I never really cared about the aging of this body until this. I'm…I'm getting old." She sighed and walked behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her chin into his shoulder. He watched her reflection.

"You're aging," she corrected. "It's a sign of wisdom, of life," she turned her head and kissed the side of his face, right below his ear. "I think it's sexy,"

"Do you?" His voice was an octave too high and she bit her grinning lips.

"Like a brilliant, experienced professor."

He squared his shoulders and looked smug.

"And," she continued "it just reminds me that we're living this life together. And it's a good life, isn't it?" Their eyes met in the mirror.

"Yes," he said firmly and smiled, shifting to wrap an arm around her and pull her close for a proper hug. "Growing old with you, that's not so bad," he murmured and she smiled into his neck at the revised sound of her familiar words, spoken so long ago. Withdrawing a bit, she kissed him, soft and slow. His breath tasted of toothpaste and hers faintly of coffee and she sighed into him, reveling in the familiarity of this act.

"Mummy! Daddy!"

He withdrew slowly, opening his arms as the toddler launched herself into his stomach.

"Well good morning, Donna!" All traces of worry were eliminated from his voice as he scooped her up. "Still in your jimjams? But we're meant to have an adventure today! We've got to get you ready." She giggled, her nose pressed against his cheek, fingers twisted in the very hair that had given him pause moments before. Rose reached out and smoothed the little girl's locks, the brown strands refusing to calm themselves. He exhaled against Donna's neck, making a rude noise and the child broke into riotous laughter. Rose smiled and tugged his earlobe affectionately.

"Right, I'll start Jack's breakfast, you two get dressed," Rose narrowed her eyes and plastered on a serious face, their mischievous eyes seeing right through her ruse.

"Yes, Mummy!" Donna cooed and he chorused,

"Yes, Mummy!"

Alone in the bathroom, he set Donna on the floor and ran a hand through his hair, across his rough cheek, and down his chest, wondering where to start. She watched him expectantly.

"Right," he said slowly. "Race you to your bedroom!" She was off like a shot, shrieking as his hands tickled her sides, their running feet shaking the lights downstairs as Rose walked, unperturbed, with a baby on her hip. She walked into the kitchen, wincing a little as she spotted the forgotten dirty dishes from the night before. She placed her lips against the crown of her son's blond head.

"Okay, breakfast."

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><p>Two hours later, Rose was spreading a blanket on a grassy hillside while Donna danced around her.<p>

"John," she said, spitting out chunks of windblown hair from her mouth, and he hurried over, the baby slung in one arm, to weigh the basket down on the edge of the flapping linen.

"Here Jack," he set the infant down on his belly, dangling a stuffed walrus enticingly before him. Rose settled on one edge of the blanket and John sat on the other, Jack sprawled out between them.

"Can I go now?" Donna was jumping up and down, her body practically buzzing with energy. "Can I?" She motioned toward a nearby sandbox and Rose nodded, watching as her daughter jumped with abandon into the dirt and immediately began chattering to a young girl who looked to be around four or five.

"We're going to have to watch that one," John cracked lazily. "Bloody social butterfly already. Wonder where she gets that from?"

Rose rested on her elbows and grinned over at him, her hair blowing in the warm spring breeze. His eyes crinkled as he looked at her.

"What?" She asked, unsuccessfully tucking some strands behind her ear.

"Nothing, you just reminded me of our first time on New Earth."

Her smile softened at the memory. "Because I looked a mess like I do today?"

His hand rested on the baby's back. "Because you looked beautiful like you do today," he corrected. "And because I could barely keep myself from touching you, all the hormones in this new body. Lucky for me you took matters into your own hands and kissed me."

She laughed aloud at his impish smirk. "You mean Cassandra kissed you. I was hijacked, remember?" She reached into the picnic and began munching on some fruit.

He collapsed onto his back and looked up at the clouds. "Way to burst my fantasy. They sure felt like your lips and besides," he turned his head to offer her a wink. "You'd been looking and you liked it."

Rose snorted and threw a grape at him. "Mmhm, just fantasizing about all those parts, barely used," her voice was teasing but he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. She snickered again. "Don't even think about it Romeo, every time you get that look in your eyes I wind up pregnant."

He reached over and she made to smack his hand away, but then she caught the crooked smile on his face, the tender look in his eyes. His fingers brushed her stomach lightly. "Well, don't think we can add another one in there now, no vacancy."

Her hand came to rest on his, feeling the smallest swell there, not yet visible to those who weren't looking for it. She ate a chunk of pineapple, licking the juice from her fingers.

"Good point."

"Yeah?" He sat up and looked at her, grinning when she nodded. "Alright then, let's go!" He grabbed her hand. "Leave the children; Donna's old enough to look after Jack now."

Rose fell back, laughing in earnest now, and he looked down at her, brushing some hair away from her face, leaning to kiss her sticky lips. His face hovered over hers and she traced the faint lines that were appearing on his skin around his mouth and eyes.

"Look at you," she whispered and he smiled in puzzlement. "So different from back then."

"The wonders of time and space," his tone was light but his face was serious, studying her. Her fingers swept under his eye, rubbed his lower lip, stroked the map that was more familiar to her than her own.

"You are wonderful," she said, glancing over as Donna let out a howl of laughter. "Because of you my life is wonderful."

He took her hand in his own, kissing the pads of her fingers. "I love you," he said, simply, directly, and so, so familiar, but her eyes still teared at the sound of it.

Donna called out for him and he wrinkled his nose at her before bounding over to their daughter, lifting her onto his shoulders and hurrying over to an unoccupied swing. Rose picked up Jack, who was beginning to fuss, and placed him close to her chest, comforting him with the sound of her heart.

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><p>"Oh for God's sake."<p>

John looked up at Rose's outburst, his eyes guilty and she couldn't help but chuckle. She kept her hands on her hips.

"She's having a good time," he offered and Rose's eyes rolled.

"Not exactly the point of a bath is it?"

"She's squeaky clean!"

Donna stood up, her little body covered in suds. "Look Mummy, no more dirt!"

Rose bit her thumbnail. "Sit in the tub please." Donna promptly sat. "Five more minutes until bedtime."

"Bedtime?" John squealed. "Brilliant! I wonder what adventures Donna will get into tonight?"

"Me too!" Donna splashed some more in her excitement and Rose cringed.

"Okay, five minutes," she tossed over her shoulder as she retreated to the kitchen to dry the dishes. "I'll meet you there."

She could hear them whooping and sloshing in the water behind her, but try as she might, she could not muster up a bit of real annoyance.

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><p>"Aliens who ride around in your pocket, good one."<p>

"Thanks."

"I particularly liked your incorporation of the importance of vegetables into the tale," he added and she smiled at him.

"I try." She slipped off her shirt and jeans, sighing at the release of fabric that was becoming just a bit too tight. She rubbed some lotion down her arms and across her stomach and sides. He watched her.

"Today was a good day," he said.

"Yeah the weather's getting gorgeous."

"What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

She ran a brush through her hair. "Dinner at my Mum and Dad's." He winced and she laughed, knowing it was for her benefit. "She's making your favorite. Went on and on to me about it yesterday. I swear I don't know when you became the golden child."

"When I gave her grandchildren."

She turned to look at him. "Excuse me? Who is the one who carried those children for nine months and pushed them from her body? One of whom was born in the dead heat of summer thank you very much."

"Yes but if it wasn't for me, for my manly, human sperm, those children would never have come to fruition."

"I think I could have found another willing donor."

He tilted his head. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

The smile slid from her face as she felt a tug on her heart. She walked over to him, sitting beside him on the edge of their bed and wrapping her arms around him.

"I only want you."

"That's good." They were serious for a moment and then he grinned. "Separating our names on all those joint accounts would be time consuming."

She pulled back slightly. "Speaking of which, did you pay that cable bill?" He nodded. "Oh good, I meant to ask. Our electric was higher than usual this month for some reason."

"We'll have to see what it is next month when it's warmer. And don't forget, Monday after we drop Donna at daycare we have Jack's checkup. I reminded work yesterday that we'd be late."

He hugged her close again, sighing against her hair in contentment at the banality of their conversation. It was so normal and typical: bills every month and daycare and bedtimes and bath times, and it was lovely. Rose shifted against him.

"Your shirt is still damp." He snickered and stood to follow her when she got up, wrapping his soggy arms around her. "Stop!" She shrieked and pushed him away, eyes shining. "I hope you cleaned that up."

"Water evaporates."

Rose's mouth dropped. "I will slap you."

He grinned and kissed her, laughing against her lips as she pinched his side playfully. "All clean Sarge."

"Thank you," she kissed him again, missing half his mouth. Her hands traveled down to her bare stomach. "Are you ready for this again?"

"I'm excited."

Her tongue poked between her teeth. "Me too." She climbed into bed and began the process of settling.

John slowly undressed, crossing to put his clothes in the hamper. He froze as his reflection caught his eye, and took a step closer, studying his hair one more time. He looked from side to side, mesmerized by the catch of the silver in the light. He was unsure if it delighted or terrified him.

"Are you coming to bed?"

"Yeah."

He stole one last glance at the mirror and decided it was a delicious combination of both. Smiling, he climbed into bed with his wife.


	7. Love Out of Lust

_Rather die in your arms than die lonesome. Rather die hard than die hollow. The higher that I climb, the deeper I fall down. I'm running out of time, so let's dance while we're waiting. We will live longer than I will. We will be better than I was. We can cross rivers with our will. We can be better than I can. So dance while you can, dance cause you must. Love out of lust. Dance while you can. – Lykke Li, Love Out of Lust._

* * *

><p>The bed was cold without him in it. Rose rolled over, her body instinctively searching for heat, her arm reaching out for him. When all her fingers discovered was cool mattress, cognition began to dawn on her sleepy brain, and she sat up, blinking bleary eyes.<p>

"Doctor?" she whispered, scanning the dark room. There was silence and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair trying to think back. He had been in bed with her, of that she was certain. Danny had walked them to this room, ushering them inside and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively so that she rolled her eyes and shut the door in his smug face.

"Sharing tonight then?" She'd asked the Doctor brightly, feeling deeply relieved. She had been to so many new worlds with the Doctor, filled with creatures intimidating in sheer size as well as lack of conscience, but this trip, this impossible planet, nestled snugly against a black hole, it sparked panic within her, the wiry crackles of terror tingling from her lungs all the way into the tips of her fingers and toes. Ida had warned them that the simple sight of it could make a person go mad, and Rose had scoffed at the idea, but as she stood staring into the swirling depths, feeling the ghost of a tug at her body, the beckoning tentacles of nothingness reaching for her, she had felt the urge to scream or cry, scratch her eyes out to protect herself. It was fleeting, that feeling of uncontrolled hysteria, but she had torn her eyes away with a thundering heart. And when she looked over at the Doctor, mouth slightly agape and eyes focused, she had felt a twinge of fear for him. He was enthralled, hints of revulsion, horror, fascination and…was that lust? Flickering across his features. The crew didn't notice. They thought he was stoic and unaffected, but she knew him better than she knew herself sometimes, could read him, his thoughts and emotions, in a half-millimeter of movement, the flick of a wrist, and when he had looked at her, his pupils enlarged and black, she saw that churn of darkness within him that he fought so hard to keep at bay. She had taken a step forward and touched his cheek, unafraid of him but rather for him, and he had blinked and returned to her. She had known then, although she didn't understand the physics of things, the science behind why this was so impossible, she had felt that there was something seriously and dangerously wrong here.

"I'm the brains and you're the heart," he often told her. Jackie had sputtered in self-righteous fury hearing that the first time, believing him to be insulting her only child's intelligence. But Rose knew what he meant. Maybe she wouldn't have a couple of years ago, but now she was confident that she was clever, knew that the Doctor was proud of her sharp mind.

"It's alright, Mum," she'd soothed that day. Because what he meant was he was the one with the brain that never paused, never rested. He saw things that no one else did, could figure out the mystery in a situation by thinking it through in the span of time it took most people to recall their phone number. His mouth followed his brain's lead, constantly prattling off facts and logic at an inhumanly pace. And Rose would nod and smile at him, and she would _feel_ what was going on. She could connect with others, no matter the species, and empathize with them, talk with them at their level in a way that the Doctor could not.

"Brains and heart," she whispered then, as they stood in that foreign console room, and he'd smiled and nuzzled against her palm, both of them ignoring the exchange of looks from the crew.

So, when Danny had given them a single room to share for the night, her relief was palpable.

"Only if you promise not to kick this time," he'd said, showing all his teeth in a grin, and she knew it was for her benefit, that he was trying to reassure her, that he could read her just as much as she him.

"Oi," she'd made a face at him. "Only reason that happened is because you stole all the blankets. Mind your manners this time."

Although they had separate rooms on the TARDIS, they shared rooms often when they stayed on planets. It was convenient, seeing as how there were often people trying to kill them or they were forced to make speedy getaways in the middle of the night. Also, people generally assumed they were _together_, and they didn't correct them. She had the first few times with this incarnation, sputtering and blushing and explaining that '_no, no but we're just friends_,' while he watched her in bemusement. Then, it just became easier to say nothing, and anyway, she wasn't sure there was a label for what they were to each other.

"Small bed," she'd commented, collapsing on it with a sigh, "uncomfortable too." The mattress was hard and unyielding with scratchy sheets and two thin pillows. He'd been standing by the window, looking out and although it was out of her line of vision, she could picture what he was seeing, the overwhelming void, taunting and enticing.

"Doctor," she'd murmured, and when he didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge hearing her, her voice took on the slightest twinge of concern. "Doctor?"

He'd turned then and she'd smiled. "Come to bed."

He had come right away, obedient as a child, and stretched out beside her, hands behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling. He hardly ever slept, but usually just lay still and thought while she rested, and so she'd felt contented. His body was cooler than hers but somehow always warmed her and God, she wasn't sure she could have withstood this night alone. She'd turned away from him onto her side, curling into herself, purposely looking away from the window, unnerved, even in her sleep, to face the black hole.

She must have fallen asleep rather quickly, near death experiences and feelings of entrapment tended to tucker her out, and now as she awoke in the middle of the night, the Doctor was nowhere to be found. She stretched and switched on the lamp and somehow the soft glow it cast, with its eerie illumination of half-objects and nourishment of shadows, scared her more than her blindness had. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms.

"Doctor," she whispered again and, '_shit_,' her voice was trembling.

"I'm here, Rose." By the window, and no wonder she hadn't seen him before, he was fused so fully with the gloom that for a moment she had to squint to see if he was facing her or not. No, his back was to her, watching the blackness collapse in on itself.

She swung her legs out from under the covers and padded over to him in her bare feet. Without a word, she drew the curtains back, shielding them from the outdoor lights of the station, yet somehow brightening the room. He looked down at her, and once again she felt a pang at how hooded his eyes were. She took his hand, cool almost to the point of being icy, and he let her lead him back to the bed. She sat cross-legged in the middle and he settled up against the headboard, his face troubled.

"You can't do this to yourself," she said.

"It's impossible, us being here. What's holding us?" His hands lay one at each side and he was so calm and still she had the impulse to shake him, unearth his usual spirit. Instead, she nudged his leg playfully.

"Scared of not knowing everything?"

He blinked. "There's loads I don't know and I love that, it's why I keep traveling, what excites me. But, but…the rules of science breaking down, being untrue, that…yeah that does scare me."

"Why?"

There was a long pause and she wondered if she should ask the question again. His eyes were far away and unfocused.

"Because nothing makes sense in life does it? People are cruel and bad guys win and people that you love, they, they leave. They die. And it's not fair and there's no order to it." Rose rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on his chest, her head rising and falling with his breaths, watching his face closely.

"It comforts me," he continued. "That science offers hard data and explanations and equations that always add up. If all that crumbles, then what will be left? What will I have?"

"Me," she said softly, and, without thought, she strained up to brush a faint kiss against his jaw. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing beside her, and looked at her intensely, his expression unreadable. "You'll always have me."

"Promise?" She smiled at his childish question but he remained solemn, eyes never straying from hers.

"I promise," she whispered and lifted her hand to trace the crease between his brow, down to the side of his cheek.

"Are you scared?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes."

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," she said and shifted, snuggling against his chest with an arm slung over him. "And right now, here with you, I feel safe." His arms came around her then, pulling her closer.

"With the rate that they're going, tomorrow they'll finish drilling."

"What does that mean?"

"We'll get some answers."

The rumble of his voice rippled across her skin and she breathed in his familiar scent, feeling comforted on this strange, strange planet. "Is that good?"

"It's always good to gain knowledge."

He sounded more like himself and she smiled against his suit jacket. The room was silent for a few minutes. "We'll be alright, yeah?" Her voice echoed in the hush. "We'll get through this?"

His right hand had been stroking her hair absently, and his fingers stilled for a brief moment before resuming their task. "Of course." And he sounded so confident and firm that the tension she hadn't realized her body had been holding drained.

"I'm not scared anymore," she murmured sleepily and let herself be lulled away by his breathing. He lay awake all night and held her.

* * *

><p>"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Danny's panicked blubbering spurred her on faster, her hands slapping on the cold steel and her knees, rubbed raw from the friction of crawling, beginning to leak droplets of scarlet. "Go Rose!" He wailed and she scrambled to the door, pounding on it frantically.<p>

"Open the door!" She didn't want to look back, didn't want to see the Ood's faces, their red eyes and gleaming skulls, but the metal of the door shone their reflections into her face and she squeezed her eyes shut against their approaching forms. She could hear them now, their grunts and the clatter of their hands and knees against the floor.

Finally, the door swooped open and she shot through with Danny at her heels, his hands at her thighs and butt, pushing her forward. The vent was small and for a brief moment she had a flash of panic and claustrophobia, but she forced herself to keep crawling, blood pounding in her ears.

She and Danny rounded a corner, the metal groaning under their weight, and another door loomed in front of them, seeming an impossible distance away. Rose gritted her teeth and drove herself faster, keeping her eyes focused on her destination.

"Open the door," she panted when they arrived, but there was no movement of the hatch and no response. "Captain!" She shouted. "We're here open the door!" She slammed her fist against the impasse in frustration. "Captain?" She looked at Danny, his eyes wide and bloodshot with threatening tears. "He's not there. He can't hear us."

"No!" He shoved alongside her and beat at the door, smashing at it with his fists and shoulder, contorting himself to kick at it distraughtly. His efforts were fruitless and he collapsed, his energy spent, and began to sob.

Rose wanted to comfort him, wanted to tell him it was going to be okay. She racked her brain for an impulsive plan, anything, something to motivate him, to allow her to take charge and save the day like she had on the ship. But the tunnel was airtight, the titanium too strong, and she could hear the distinct sounds of the Ood as they advanced. She slumped with her back against the door and waited.

She thought of her mother, so far away in both space and time, and wondered what she was doing this very minute. Making a cup of tea, she imagined, with her friend from next door, laughing about the latest man she was seeing. Jackie would never know, Rose realized, would never find out what happened to her daughter, she'd just keep waiting and Rose would never return. She'd be all alone now, without her husband, her daughter, or even Mickey. Everyone left her. Rose swallowed thickly and sent Jackie a wave of love, hoping that although she was far away and although she hadn't shown it like she should, that her mother would feel her daughter's affection.

Danny had stopped crying, his head buried in his knees, and his silence was almost more than Rose could bear. The echo of the approaching Ood was thunderous. They would be on them in seconds. She was going to die here.

Rose thought then of the Doctor, wherever he was. She hoped that he would escape from the pit, knew in her heart that he would. She could accept her own death as long as he lived, it was so much more important that he survive. The world needed him; she needed him to keep going, to represent that hope and goodness that was fading in so many places. She wondered if he'd know what happened to her or if he'd look for her and have to speculate.

She rested the back of her head against the door, and whispered, "Please," aloud, although she wasn't exactly sure what she was asking for: for the Doctor to be saved, for her to be saved, to be back home in her mother's arms. The oncoming force was imminent. She closed her eyes and pictured the Doctor's face, wanting him to be the last image she would see.

"The valiant child," the voice was deep and cracked, possessed, and she recognized it in her gut. Her eyes flew open. It was the Devil.

Rose screamed. Real, true horror erupted from her and the door behind her, the portal on which she had place all her weight, opened and she tumbled backwards into space. Her scream continued as she realized her folly, saw that this door did not lead her to the next passage, to safety, instead it ushered in her demise, tossing her into open space.

"Rose!" Danny grabbed her ankle, held her back, but her upper body dangled in the darkness, her breath sucked away so she could no longer even have a voice. "I've got you!" He yelled, but Rose knew, knew that the Devil was right behind him, knew that both their time was limited.

Suddenly, a flash of orange, and she turned her head, almost weeping in relief. It was the Doctor. The Doctor. Still in his jumpsuit, navigating the open space, reaching for her. She couldn't see his face due to his helmet, but she smiled at him, understanding that he was here to save her.

He sailed up to her, close, so close her outstretched fingers could almost reach his. She bit her lip and strained closer, and her mouth dropped open in a silent howl as she got a look at him, saw that inside the suit he was no longer the Doctor at all, but a skeleton, his eyes, his beautiful, warm eyes, now bottomless sockets, just like the black hole, deadly, pulling her in. And then he grabbed her and pulled her into space, dragging them both, twisting and spinning, into the black hole. And Rose knew now that this is how she would die and she wished only for some air in her lungs so she could scream.

She woke up panting, tangled in sheets. It was dark all around her and she whipped her head from side to side, trying to gain her bearings. Lights clicked on around her and she blinked at the familiar surroundings: The TARDIS, in her room. She was safe.

"Thanks," she breathed aloud to the ship, knowing that the TARDIS had witnessed her fear and taken the initiative to light up the space. Rose dragged a hand through her hair, pulling the damp strands from her forehead and neck, shivering as the sweat cooled. She placed a hand over her racing heart, trying to calm it, memory informing her that she was no longer on that planet, that she and the Doctor were both safe and in bed, under his orders that they both needed rest after their ordeal. She was unsure how long she had been sleeping, but she knew without a doubt that her rest for the night was over.

* * *

><p>If the Doctor noticed the dark circles under her eyes the next day he didn't comment, but he kept them floating aimlessly through the vortex and she was glad, her mind a tangled debris. Although there was no real linear time in the space they occupied, Rose knew when it was time for sleep, and after hours of pretending to read, she told the Doctor good night as cheerfully as she could muster. He watched her go but said nothing and she forced herself to climb under her blankets.<p>

She sat up with the lights on, knees to her chest, arms encircling herself in a desperate hug, and witnessed every movement out of the corner of her eye. After each flutter, she told herself she was imagining it, her muscles building more and more tension until she was sure she would snap. Then, there, her closet door: was that more open now than it had been a second ago? An ache was building in her back and she felt her lungs closing, her pants of breath stuttering from her lips. Clenching her eyes shut, she counted to ten, telling herself that when she opened them the closet door would not have moved, everything would be the same and she would go to sleep. _Ten_. Something brushed her arm and she was up and out of her bed like a rocket, ripping the door open, and running to the console room, skidding and tripping in her socks.

The Doctor looked up from his book, peering at her over his thick rims.

"Are you alight?" He asked, his voice a mixture of incredulity and concern at her wild appearance.

She nodded. "No."

He walked her back to her room and she kept her eyes cast down in embarrassment. He was just going to tuck her in and leave her like she's a child, which, she reasoned, was fitting since she felt sullen like a child. He was very good at tucking in; fluffing her pillows and adjusting her blankets so that she felt cozy and warm but not trapped.

"Thanks," she muttered, although she really wanted to ask him to leave the lights on as he left. "Don't know what's wrong with me."

"Well," he said, and his voice was not unkind. "We did both just almost get killed by a mysterious creature resembling the Devil."

"Yeah," she attempted a smile, grateful that he was acknowledging the trauma they had withstood. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He smiled cheerfully back and crawled to lie beside her. She blinked as he snuggled in, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tucking her against his chest. And suddenly she was okay. And she slept.

* * *

><p>The next night he was just as willing and gentle and she didn't feel so ridiculous for asking. By the third night he was expecting her and as she curled against him, his fingers splayed across her arm and his heartbeats comforting in her ear, she wondered if she would ever be able to sleep without him again.<p> 


	8. Secret

_I know I don't know you, but I want you so bad. Everyone has a secret, but can they keep it, oh no they can't. I'm driving fast now; don't think I know how to go slow. Where you at now? I feel around. There you are. – Maroon 5, Secret_

* * *

><p>She was back. Rose closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the familiar smell whooshing into her lungs and triggering an ocean of memories that flashed beneath her eyelids like a disjointed film. She was back.<p>

"Hello," she said aloud although the space was empty. "I missed you," she added. There was a thrum in the grating beneath her feet, so subtle that most people would never have perceived it. Rose Tyler was not most people.

"Miss me too, do you?" She walked over and let her fingers dance across the buttons and levers, objects that were so recognizable to her, and yet so foreign. She never did quite get the hang of flying this incredible ship, no matter how patiently the Doctor had tried to instruct her. Or not so patiently. She smiled faintly at the memory of him, standing behind her in this very spot, hands on his head, fingers digging into his hair, his voice strained and loud as he lamented that she was sending them hurtling into the dark ages.

_"No, Rose, twist the knob twenty-five degrees." She grasped the metal button and turned and the Doctor went flying, catching himself on the console next to her, his long body sprawled against hers. "Over rotation!" He shouted. "That was at least twenty-seven degrees!" _

_ "Sorry, sorry!" She bit her lip and grabbed at a lever hastily. "Here." She wrenched it up and he pitched backwards, half his shirt coming untucked. _

_ "Oh God," he said from his position on the floor. "Hundreds of years traveling through time and space, respecting the delicate balance the universes tip on, and one human is going to kill us all." _

_ Rose turned a dial and pondered this for a moment, feeling surprisingly calm despite his apparent terror. "Oh," she hummed and he looked up at the salacious tone in her voice. "Feel quite powerful all of a sudden." _

_ "Don't," he rose quickly and stalked toward her, his chest pressing firmly against her back and his hand molding atop hers on a handle. "The barriers of time and space will not bend to your will." _

_ She pouted and looked up at him, her lips brushing his jaw. "You didn't even let me try." The TARDIS began to slow as he regained control. His eyes flicked down to her. _

_ "I think I'm beginning to realize the danger of how much I'll actually let you try."_

"Thinking of taking her out for another spin?" She tensed at the voice, so wrapped up in her nostalgia that she hadn't heard him approach. She kept her back to him, closing her eyes and fighting to regain some composure. She'd had this dream a million times.

"Maybe," her voice was steady and calm, even managing to sound a bit coy, and she felt proud. "Who's going to stop me?"

"Not me. Certainly not her. She loves the way you fly her, bit like an amusement park ride, gets you right to that glorious edge of exhilaration and vomit."

Rose snorted. "You're such an ass." She turned then and saw him: one shoulder leaning casually against the wall, hands jammed in his pockets, foot crossed over the other. He smiled and his eyes were brighter than she'd ever seen them.

"Hello Rose."

Her breath caught. There was something in the way he said her name, that look in his gaze. She knew immediately that it was him.

"It's you," she breathed.

He smiled sadly. "It's me."

"But it's really you. The real Doctor, not that dream one who pops in and out. We're meeting in dreams again."

"What's this talk of a dream bloke?"

"Shut up!" She laughed, a choked sound that was half a sob. She took a step forward, reaching for him, and then stopped abruptly. "It is really you isn't it? I'm not going mad? It's you and me, me with all my thoughts and control."

"It's us." He hadn't moved.

"But this is…what," she looked around in befuddlement. "Why now? I've had this dream loads of times and you never show up."

"The connection was lost when you went into the parallel universe the first time. When you were back on the ship, the TARDIS must have rekindled the bind, strengthening it so it would reach through the gap."

"So now we're up and running even though I'm stuck back here again."

"Yeah." There was an awkward pause as the reality of what had transpired on the beach hung heavily between them, his actions and her choice. He cleared his throat and looked down, remaining as still as she had ever seen him.

"Do you do this with the other people you travel with?" The question popped out without any real thought or interest behind it. Her brain was scrambling to process everything, the fact that he was here, her anger and frustration over being left for a second time, her utter joy at seeing him again.

"Uh, no. No. Didn't sleep much while Martha was here. Tough time for me, as it turns out," his tone was light, but she blinked at the raw pain that flickered across his features. He wasn't looking at her.

"She seemed brilliant," Rose offered.

"She was! That she was. Brilliant. Martha Jones." He strode over to the console, leaving a wide berth between them, and circled around the controls, fingertips tracing every inch, touching everything but her. Rose shivered.

"What about Donna?" She asked.

He faltered for a moment, then pulled a button, avoiding her gaze. "No never met in dreams with Donna either."

"Were you still not sleeping?"

"Oh I slept better," his smile was rueful. "We had some grand adventures. But no dreams together, the TARDIS didn't make that connection."

"Well, there's still a chance."

"No. No, she's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"She went home," he was concentrating on something on a screen, setting his glasses on his nose to get a closer look.

"But…" Rose gaped at him. "But I just saw you a few weeks ago. You were so happy together. You seemed to get on so well."

"We did. We were," he paused and adjusted his frames. "We were great friends."

She held out a hand in silent question. "It was…You saw how she absorbed all of that Time Lord knowledge? How she essentially became part Time Lord?" Rose nodded soundlessly. "Well, that's not…a Time Lord can become human, can lose some of that superior physicality and mental ability," Rose thought vaguely of making a snarky remark but refrained due to his somber expression. "Much easier than a human can become part Time Lord. Your bodies and minds are not equipped to deal with the breadth of all that knowledge, the limitlessness. The brain can't cope. It starts to shut down."

Rose felt a chill. "So what happened?"

"She was losing her mind. She was in pain. She would have-" He ran a hand through his hair, stare unfocused. "The only way I could save her was to wipe her memory clean. To remove every memory of me, of the TARDIS, time traveling, all the wonderful things that she did." Rose raised a hand to her mouth in horror. "She begged me not to, cried and pleaded. But I had to; I couldn't just watch her…" He shut his eyes. "I had to do it. She's home now. Safe and sound and happy with her family."

"Oh Doctor, I'm so sorry. How awful for you both. I'm so, so sorry." She closed the distance between them and took his hand in her own on pure instinct. Startled, she stared at their joined fingers in wonder. It felt so real; she could feel his heat, the tendons jumping under his skin. It was like coming home. They stood like that for a few moments, then he squeezed her hand and pulled away, still not really looking at her.

"How's my twin?" He asked, moving on to fiddling with an exposed wire.

"Good. He's working at Torchwood with me. Settling in. He's adjusting really well, better than I did when I first arrived. He took the name John Smith for old times' sake. It's just for paperwork though. We all still call him the Doctor, all of us that know."

"So you and he are…" he trailed off but they both knew what he was asking. Rose found that now she was the one who couldn't meet his gaze.

"Yeah," she said and tried to think of something else to say, coming up with nothing. Her mouth shut with a snap.

"I'm happy for you," he managed to sound like he meant it, but there was something, just a tiny hitch in his voice that she heard.

"Doctor…"

"I mean it, Rose. All I've ever wanted is for you to be happy." Their eyes met and held for the first time.

"I miss you," she said.

"I miss you too."

"Still? After all your adventures?" She cringed inwardly at the neediness in her voice, but it had to be asked. She had to know for all those nights that she lay awake wondering.

"Yes, well it's lonely being a jetsetter without a pretty blonde leaving her clothes strewn all over the TARDIS. Turns out tidiness distracts me." They grinned at each other.

"You should find someone else to travel with."

"Nah," he sniffed. "It's not the same, you know. Donna, she was…she and I were good mates and for a while there it was fun, really fun," he smiled, remembering. "You would have loved her."

"I did. She saved you. And me and the world." she said quietly.

"Yeah," he seemed to snap out of his revere, peering at the wire again. "But it had to end. You all leave me in the end." His lips quirked. "And with the others I find myself…I try not to, don't realize I am, but I'm just trying to find another Rose. And there isn't one. And I can't have you back no matter how much I want you."

His look was sudden and searing and it hit her somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

"You shouldn't be traveling all alone," she felt something tugging at the base of her head and brushed it aside with the back of her hand. "It's dangerous and lonely and you should find a friend. You deserve a friend."

His chuckle sounded anything but pleasant.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "You know it's not easy for me either. But I didn't have a choice. You think I want to be stuck on some planet with-" There it was again, a tickle inside her mind. She winced and touched her hair gingerly.

His eyes were sad and knowing. "It's time for you to wake up."

"No, no!" She felt panicked, gripping onto the console, reaching for him.

"I'll come back, I'll see you again." He stepped closer so she could gather a fistful of his jacket.

"Promise. Promise me." She was beginning to cry.

"I can't control when, it's all about us both falling into a deep sleep at the same time, triggering that connection…"

"Doctor, please," her voice broke. "This wasn't enough time."

He looked at her, eyes searching her face. His hand came up to brush a tear from her cheek, and then they were hugging each other like they should have been from the start, like they had wanted to, but had felt too afraid. Rose clung to him with a desperation that terrified her and his chin nuzzled against her hair.

"I promise," he whispered.

* * *

><p>She woke up in her bed, gasping, tears on her face and the scent of him still lingering in her nose. Her phone was blinking on the nightstand, the green, spectral glow signaling the received text that had no doubt stimulated her awakening. She quietly extracted herself from the blankets and walked to the terrace, opening the doors and creeping into the cool night air. Her arms wrapped around herself and she looked up at sky, wondering where he was right now, wondering when they would meet again.<p> 


	9. Drifting

_You have been drifting for so long. I know you don't want to come down. Somewhere below you, there's people who love you and they're ready for you to come home. Please come home. – Sarah Mclachlan, Drifting_

* * *

><p>"Bloody Time Lord."<p>

The Doctor ducked under a branch and then paused to hold it so Donna could pass unscathed. She brushed past him, bumping his shoulder violently and, he was fairly certain, purposefully.

"Donna…" he was trying not to laugh, laughing at this point would probably signal his demise at her hands, but she looked so ridiculous and indignant, hair askew, shirt torn, face smudged with dirt. Also, he peered closer, some sort of animal scat had managed to tangle its way into her hair. He took a calming breath to quell his giggles and then started after her, her determined strides setting a faster pace than usual, even in these conditions.

"Nice peaceful day off he says! We'll go for a little stroll he says!" She was still jabbering on to herself, her words disjointed as each wrench of her foot from the muck let out a slurp and stole her breath away.

"Donna," he said again. He could feel his own trainers filling with mud, the watery goo collecting near his toes and offering a rather unpleasant sensation with each step. Donna made to stretch over a log and stumbled when her shoe remained logged in the bog and her foot slipped free.

"Oh," she gasped and he moved quickly to catch her arm. She stood, balancing on one foot while he extracted her shoe. He looked up at her, intending to make light of the situation, but her face was hard and miserable. "Don't," she warned.

He shut his mouth and stood, brandishing the dirty boot as a peace offering. She reached to take it, but he pulled back abruptly as he felt the weight of the object shift in his hand.

"Wha-" she blinked at him and he gave her a significant look, tipping the shoe over slowly. They both watched as twigs and leaves and sludge slid out, followed, with a dramatic splash, by a blob that looked suspiciously like an Earth frog. Startled, they stared at each other for a moment and then the Doctor could take it no longer and broke into uproarious gales of laughter. Donna tore the boot from his hand.

"Glad it's so funny for you, Space Man," she stuffed her foot into the article with clenched teeth. "Can we just find the TARDIS now? This vacation is over, thank you very much." His voice still sounded annoyed, but he could detect the stirrings of amusement within her, and when he linked arms with her to help her navigate the slippery terrain, she did not pull away.

"We're almost there," he assured her, although, looking around at the barren trees overhead, he reflected, not for the first time that afternoon, that he was completely lost.

As if reading his mind she asked plaintively, "And where are we?"

"Not sure," his voice was cheerful.

"But it's getting dark out." Indeed, the sun was dipping below the horizon, making the already dreary landscape and frigid temperature appear even more ominous. He patted her mud-caked hand with his own.

"Don't you worry, Donna Noble. We just got a bit turned around. It's an adventure!"

"Doesn't feel much like an adventure," she grumbled. She let out a little shriek as she lost her footing, wrenching her body to the right in a desperate overcompensation. The Doctor tightened his grip on her, trying to stop the inevitable, but the ground beneath his feet was slick with decomposing leaves and slush and he found himself being yanked with her as they both tumbled to the ground. Donna landed firmly on her backside with a squelch and he managed to just catch himself with an arm and avoid a face full of mud, crashing on his side instead. He sat up, one half of him completely drenched and looked over at her stunned expression.

"Alright?" He muttered, shaking some of the smelly goo from his limbs in disgust.

"I am going to kill you." Her eyes were ablaze and he gaped at her.

"Me? What? What did I do? You're the one who took us both down!"

"Well if you'd ever learned to properly fly your ship we'd start landing in the right times and places!"

"Oh don't start with that! Everything would have been fine if you hadn't mentioned that the constable's eye was wandering!"

"Well it was obvious! His wife was standing right there and he's ogling some other lady."

"He had a lazy eye, Donna! We would have had a ride if you didn't get us chucked out of the place." He shook some stubborn muck from his hand and it landed squarely on her cheek. They both froze. "Now," he held up both hands and scooted back nervously. "Donna, that was a mistake. I apologize. It was an honest mis- Oi! Blimey!" Her throw caught him on the forehead, his face snapping back from the force of the impact. "You got it in my eye for God's sake." His fingers dug into his covered sockets and came back full. He regained sight just in time to watch her winding up another handful before it knocked into his shoulder, flecks splattering onto his jaw and mouth. "What?" He licked his lips instinctively and gagged at the taste, spitting to the side. "Oh," he looked at her darkly. "Oh, you have no idea who you're messing with."

She shrieked and in seconds they were in a full-fledged mud fight, jumping and slipping in the clay, rising black and laughing, chucking clumps at each other. They were tangled on the ground, he underneath her and her hand poised to drop a handful directly onto his face, when he stilled and sat up.

"Shh," he urged.

"Oh, like I'm going to fall for that one." The mud was slipping through her fingers, dripping down her arm.

"No, Donna, really. Listen."

In the still that followed, she became aware of what he was hearing, voices, many of them, chortling and clanging. They rose immediately and he took her hand, rushing in the direction of the sound. The spreading darkness made it easy to spot the fires of the campsite and soon they had extricated themselves from the muddy forest and were striding across a brown field.

"Who goes there?" A man stepped out, holding some sort of cumbersome object the Doctor had never seen before but was easily able to identify as a weapon.

"Oh, hello!" He and Donna both held up their empty hands. "We come in peace."

The man didn't look reassured and the Doctor spared a glance at Donna; she looked absolutely frightful, and he gathered he must appear no differently. "Right, I know we look like some kind of swamp monster, but we're not, I promise. We just got a little lost back there." He motioned behind them and the man took a step back.

"In the wood?" He asked incredulously.

"Yep. Yeah back there." There was a long pause. "I can tell from your expression that you realize how horrible that was for us, so maybe you'll offer us a little respite at your camp? Maybe some water and a chance to wash this off?"

The man studied them hard and they both smiled innocently. "Alright then," he grunted, finally. "Follow me." They started after him.

"He looked spooked," Donna whispered and the Doctor nodded, serious.

"That he definitely did."

* * *

><p>As the Doctor and Donna stood at a water pump, splashing ice cold liquid onto themselves even as their breath swirled around them in white clouds, the Doctor nudged her.<p>

"They're like gypsies, these lot. Living on the outskirts of society, making their own laws, living off the land. Gypsies are always so much fun! This'll be brilliant!"

"They look like humans," Donna whispered back and then started when the man who had led them over walked into the light, blinking reptilian eyes and revealing scaly skin.

"Yeah, not quite," the Doctor said. When they walked out to the bon fire, the residents were friendly, if a bit reserved, but the Doctor felt a sense of suspicion and unease hanging in the air. "So what's going on here tonight?" He asked loudly. "Where's the music and the drinking? It's far too quiet for a lovely night such as this!" The people around them blinked and shrunk away and Donna rolled her eyes.

"Way to integrate numskull."

"I don't see you doing any better."

"Hold on, you've got a bit of mud stuck just here," she stood on her toes and reached for his ear. He bent to accommodate her and then yelped when she pinched hard. "Bloody alien," she muttered and stalked away. He rubbed his burning appendage and followed.

"Hello there," Donna approached a young female. "How's it going?" The woman nodded noncommittally and Donna smiled. "So why's everything so quiet tonight? Here you all are, living away from the prying eye of the law and all you do is sit around a fire and chat?"

The woman's second eyelids blinked frantically. "It didn't use to be this way," she admitted. "A few months ago we would have been playing music and there was dancing and laughter, so much joy."

"What's changed?" The Doctor stepped forward.

"It's the music. When we play, songs that have been passed down from generation to generation, something awful happens. The wind picks up and the musicians…it's not for fun anymore, their eyes, they, they leave their bodies and they won't stop. They play and play until their fingers bleed, until they collapse and all of us who are not playing, we have to dance. We have no control over our bodies; we just dance until the music stops or until we fall." Her eyes lowered. "Two people died last month from the dancing, a young child and an old woman. Their bodies could not handle the strain."

"How long has this been happening?"

She shook her head. "We're not sure; it didn't start out so strongly. First people just felt an urge to dance and play, didn't want to stop. Then, we had no choice. It's been a few months at least. Now we lock up the instruments and singing is banned. We are afraid." She looked up at the Doctor. "Can you help?"

A hiss from the shadows sent the young woman stumbling away before the Doctor could answer. He and Donna watched as an old woman, dressed all in black emerged.

"Hello," Donna muttered under her breath. "I know this one. She's about to offer me a poisoned apple isn't she?"

The woman did look the part of every stereotypical witch, the Doctor had to admit. Her back was hunched, her slitted eyes glossy and unseeing. Her grey hair hung in clumps around her scaly face, the wrinkles making the rough pattern more pronounced.

"Hi," the Doctor offered, not unkindly. "I'm the Doctor and this is Donna. Who might you be?"

"I am of the soil and wind. I have no name that matters beyond that."

"…Okay, well we're trying to help here. Do you have anything you could tell us about what's been going on with the music?"

The woman cackled softly and the Doctor and Donna exchanged a look. "What good can a lost woman do? And our savior, is he to be a broken man who watched his flower wilt and die?"

The Doctor swallowed. "What?"

The woman stepped closer and the Doctor had to resist the urge to take a step back. "Heart heavy and head weary, you wander. Why do you lament that she must be gone forever when the truth is that she watches and can be found?"

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head and began walking away. "A man so lost cannot be the one to help us navigate our truth."

They stared after her for a moment and then Donna whirled on him. "What the hell was that?"

"I dunno."

"What's going on with the music?"

"I don't know, Donna."

"Well, what are we going to do now?"

* * *

><p>They found the younger women they had been speaking to after realizing no one else in the community would readily offer them any information.<p>

"We don't like outsiders," the woman explained as they sat around a smaller fire and ate some kind of meat that tasted like chicken but most certainly wasn't. "They don't understand us and we don't trust them. It's not our way to tell newcomers our secrets. But I figure, no one here knows what to do. We're all scared and depressed and people have died. This needs to stop and if you two can help, I don't care who you are."

"So when all this started," the Doctor asked. "Did you notice any other changes? Anything else that was strange?"

She studied him hard for a moment. "It's the woods," she said finally. "The forest in these parts has always been forbidden. It's not safe." Donna shot the Doctor a nasty look, which he chose to ignore. "But when the music plays, there's noises out there. Flashes of things moving around. They're in the woods, Doctor."

* * *

><p>They spent the night cramped in a tent together, neither able to sleep.<p>

"This place creeps me out," Donna whispered, keeping her back to him.

"I know," he said.

"And that old woman, the witch, she scares me."

"I know."

The next morning they set off to the woods with the young woman, Nara her name turned out to be, as their guide since no one else would venture. At the edge of the trees, Nara hesitated and shifted from foot to foot in clear discomfort.

"Is this around where you used to gather?"

"Yes," her voice was barely a whisper.

The Doctor crouched and inhaled deeply. "Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?" Donna asked. Her nose crinkled in revulsion as he dipped a finger into the mud and stuck it in his mouth. "Oh, blimey you're disgusting."

He swirled the mixture in his mouth for a moment and then spat it out, standing and wiping his hands on his pants. "It's transformation energy," he said.

"Transformation energy?" Donna's eyes widened. "Transformation energy! Wait, what's that mean?"

"It means," he turned toward Nara. "We're going to need some music. Think you could get me an instrument?"

Nara's scales looked slick with perspiration. "I don't know," she hedged. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Nara, listen to me: whatever is doing this to your people is spurred on by music. I need to play music to make them show themselves. I'll keep everyone safe, I promise."

She hesitated again, then nodded. "I can get you an instrument, but no one will play and I can't," her eyes were panicked. "I can't…"

"That's fine," he said softly. "I understand. Donna here will play."

Donna made a face. "I'll what?"

Nara scurried off and Donna turned to face him, hands on her hips.

"Have you gone mad? I can't play music."

"What," his voice was innocent. "You never learned to play?"

"Where would I learn to play an alien instrument? This is ridiculous." She followed him around as he paced in and out of the entrance to the woods, sniffing and, she grimaced, licking occasionally.

"It's definitely here," he said finally. "This area is overflowing with transformation energy. All this other stuff," he made a wide motion with his hand. "Is just sludge." His tongue rubbed desperately against the roof of his mouth, peaking from his lips as he scowled. Donna watched him in a mix of fascination and loathing.

"You _literally_ repel me." He made a face and she continued, "So this transformation energy? What's it all mean?"

"It's residue from a morph. Some aliens evolved the ability to change forms, looking like one thing and then shifting to another or fading into invisibility. The transformation energy gets left behind on and absorbed by surrounding objects, sort of like exhaust from a car. It's invisible and generally undetectable but," he tapped his nose and gave her a look.

"Time Lord," she crowed.

"Time Lord."

"So, the music? What's with the music? It makes the alien shift and secrete this energy?"

"Now that I don't know. But, we're going to find out!"

Nara was rushing toward them, stumbling over an awkward stringed instrument that somewhat resembled a guitar.

"Oh bloody hell," Donna groaned.

"Here," Nara thrust the object into her arms and immediately began backing away.

"Hey, where are you going?" Donna called after her.

"I'm sorry," she shot over her shoulder, tripping in her haste. "I can't be here for this. The music…it's too dangerous."

"Great," Donna turned back to the Doctor. "Now the two of us are going to get stuck here with me strumming a medley and you dancing a jig. Not exactly a dignified way to die is it?" She gave the instrument a few experimental plucks. "Does it have to be good playing?" She wondered aloud. "Cause I can't promise you that." She continued playing for a few moments, the Doctor standing stock still next to her, all his senses on alert. Suddenly, the random chirps and vibrations coming from the device intensified and evened out and Donna gasped.

"What is it?"

"I can feel it!" She cried, body tense. "The pull, I can't…I can't stop playing! Doctor!"

"It's okay," he said softly. "This is what we wanted to happen. And I don't feel the urge to dance."

"Superior Time Lord biology?" She snapped.

"I'll stop you before you're in danger."

"Great I'll just wait here for you," she gritted out. Her fingers were flying now.

Then, a flash of color in the corner of his eye; the Doctor spun around. There, just a few feet away stood two little gnome-like creatures. The Doctor's eyes widened just as they aliens spotted him.

His mouth flapped. "Hold on!" But they were already running away from him. He bolted after them, slipping in the mud but managing to catch himself and give chase. They were fast, but he was faster, and he was gaining ground. Then, the air went still and he realized Donna had stopped playing. The aliens were a foot away, one glancing over its shoulder to gage the Doctor's distance when they exploded into billions of tiny balls of color, bouncing around the Doctor so he jerked back in surprise and could only stare as the mounds of color blended in with the wood. Donna ran up behind him, panting.

"It went away, the urge. Suddenly I didn't have to play anymore. What did you do?"

"It wasn't me," he put his glasses on and looked around. "We need more."

"More what?"

"More music. Donna Noble, we need to form a band!"

* * *

><p>The people in the camp were far less enthusiastic than the Doctor had hoped they'd be.<p>

"But I saw them," he lamented for the third time. "Little creatures about yay tall." He held up his hands and peeked through them. "They're the ones who've been doing this to you. I can stop them, give you back your music!" The vibe of the crowd was slowly beginning to change, people were walking back over, eyeing him suspiciously, but hopefully.

"You mean kill them?" Someone shouted.

"No! No." He ran a hand over his face. "They seemed just as scared as you are. I'll talk to them, figure out why they're doing this and they'll stop. There doesn't need to be violence. Trust me."

There was a hush as people shuffled and looked at their feet, no one wanting to be the first to volunteer. Finally, a woman stepped forward.

"I will play with you. I can live in this fear and silence no longer."

The Doctor grinned as one by one, people stepped forward. They began gathering their instruments and heading toward the trees. Turning to leave, the Doctor almost collided with the old witch, startled by her sudden presence. She was mute, simply staring at him with her blind eyes.

"Think it's going to work?" He asked cheerfully, trying to mask his unease and ignore the chill creeping up his spine. She said nothing. "Thought you were going to offer some more cryptic fortune cookies?" When she remained still he made a move to leave.

"Doctor."

He turned back.

"You will save us. Because you do not love us."

He blinked and absorbed what she had said. When there was no more, he frowned and walked away. Donna ran up and matched his brisk pace.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing," he snapped.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Your dimple is showing, the angry one. When the angry dimple comes out, the witch must have said something."

He laughed and turned toward her. "I just want to figure this out."

"Good," she said and squinted up at him. "So then we can get the hell out of here."

* * *

><p>The people were nervous, but they sounded much better than Donna had, stronger and more skilled. When the dancing started, the Doctor felt alarmed that the aliens had returned so quickly, but then he realized that the gypsies were just excited to be hearing their music once again, their feet tapping out their joy. He watched them for a while, as even Donna got in on the action, when he noticed the two figures creeping up from the woods. They caught his eye and turned to run, but he yelled out, "Wait, wait!" and shook a tambourine as what he hoped would be considered a peace offering. The gnomes stilled and looked at him and he cautiously approached.<p>

"Hello," he murmured, bending down to their level. "What's this all about?"

The aliens exchanged a look before the one on the left spoke up: "We are here for the music."

"Yes, but why?"

"We crashed our ship here and destroyed our own musical system. Our people cannot exist in solid form without music and we cannot fix our ship."

The Doctor stared at them. All that had happened to the gypsies, the death and the fear and pain, all because of these two small creatures, because of their desperation. He nodded briskly. "I can fix your ship."

* * *

><p>The people played all through the afternoon and into the early evening as the Doctor repaired the alien craft. This time, however, it was their choice. He stood back with Donna and watched as the two gnomes climbed aboard their miniature ship, all the gypsies has refrained from coming to the launch, too afraid and angry to be in the aliens' presence. Their celebratory music and laughter rang loudly throughout the air.<p>

One of the aliens turned back before shutting the door of the vehicle. He looked solemn. "We did not mean to hurt anyone," he looked directly into the Doctor's eyes. "It was just so beautiful, we didn't want it to stop."

They sailed off and Donna looped her arm through his. "Well, Space Man," she grinned. "Another job well done."

"Thanks to your musical talents."

She laughed and bumped his shoulder. "Now can we find the TARDIS and go, _please_?"

"Yes." They turned to go, feeling no need to say goodbye to anyone, not wanting to intrude on the large yet intimate gathering.

"Doctor." The voice never failed to chill him and he turned to face the speaker. The witch stepped closer, turning her face up to him, seeming to know, even without her sight, exactly where he was.

"I am grateful for your help. You have saved us all."

His eyes shifted. "Right…well you're welcome!"

"I wish to give you a reward."

"No, no. No need for that, thanks."

"This is a very special reward, one I guarantee you will never come across again."

Curiosity sparked, he stepped forward. Donna dropped his arm and stayed behind, watching the exchange wearily. "Oh yeah? What's that then?"

"A wish."

"A wish?" He echoed.

"Yes, one wish."

"I thought I got three?" His voice was snarky and he looked ready to leave.

"No. Just one." She walked closer and handed him a flower. "Use it well. Make your dreams come true." She walked away without another word and he stood, unmoving, staring at the plant in his hand.

"Doctor?" Donna took in his unblinking form. "She's just an old lady," she came up to his side and touched his arm. "She can't really do magic."

"But what if she can?" His voice was breathless, eyes wild.

"Well even if she could, wishing for her back could tear apart two universes yeah? Ruin things, make the world go mad." Neither of them pretended not to know what he would wish for.

"So?" His eyes had never left the flower, fingers curled around it delicately as the petals caressed his skin.

Donna felt afraid. "So? Doctor you have a time traveling space ship yet you know you can't go get her because the consequences would be too great."

"But if she could do it without tearing a hole in the universes, if she could-"

"There's no way of knowing," Donna interrupted gently. "Besides, imagine what could happen to Rose, being ripped from her world, dragged across two universes."

He said nothing.

"Doctor."

Finally, his eyes seemed to clear and he looked up, inhaling deeply. "You're right. We have to go." He bent and placed the flower tenderly on the ground, watching as the delicate petals became saturated in mud. He stood and took Donna's hand.

"Let's go," he said and did not look back.

The witch turned away from the fire and watched them go, her eyes white and knowing.


	10. Hallelujah

__**Thanks for the reviews and messages guys! I really appreciate it. -R**

* * *

><p><em>Baby, I've been here before; I've seen this room and I've walked this floor. You know I used to live alone before I knew you. And I've seen your flag on the marble arch, and love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah. – Jeff Buckley, Hallelujah<em>

* * *

><p>It was the weekend. Rose sat by the window and watched people streaming past, mothers and their children skipping, the man down the street walking his dog that comically resembled him, couples holding hands. There had been a cold spell lately, rain and snow competing to see who could ruin the most days. Or maybe they were showing up for her; the Universe's way of apologizing, recognizing the unfairness of the situation. Rose mulled over this, deciding she liked the idea: the Universe making the world grieve for her, with her.<p>

Today though, the sun had reappeared, shinning so brightly it was as if _it_ was trying to prove something as well. Rose could barely stand to look at it, her eyes wincing of their own accord as the glint stabbed them. Guess she wasn't so important to the Universe after all, Rose mused.

"What's bothering you, sweetheart?" Jackie stood in the doorway, belly heavy with child.

Rose did not turn her head; she found now that it was almost impossible to tear her gaze away from the glowing scene. _When did that happen?_

"Rose?"

"Nothing, Mum. I'm fine."

"Work is going well isn't it? The girls from your department asked you out for drinks, you told me."

"Yeah they did."

"Well that should cheer you up won't it? Nothing like a night out with the girls!"

Rose watched as a young couple, couldn't be more than seventeen, raced by, the boy laughing as his partner hopped on his back, spinning her around so that Rose could almost hear her shriek of glee.

"I'm not going to go."

"But why?" Jackie sounded so disappointed, so plaintive that Rose felt a pang of guilt. Her mother was so happy: back with her husband, weeks away from giving birth to a son, and reunited with her daughter. And Rose was ruining that for her, again. She sighed heavily and forced herself to face her mother.

"Just don't feel like it tonight. Next time I will, promise."

"Well your father and I are going out to dinner tonight; you'll come with us then!"

Rose shook her head ruefully.

Jackie wobbled over and carefully settled on the pillow next to Rose, pulling her in for a hug. Rose allowed herself to settle against her mother's neck, to be soothed by the familiar hand rubbing her back. It was nice to pretend she was a child again, that Jackie could use her parental sorcery and fix all of Rose's problems. Her mother withdrew and smiled gently. She looked younger now, Rose thought, younger than she had in years. Her face was plumper from the pregnancy and she wore hardly any makeup. Her hair had grown thick and healthy and it was as if years had dripped from her body. Rose placed her hand on her stomach and smiled slightly at the feel of her brother's movements.

"I understand, you know," Jackie said softly. When Rose looked at her she continued, "What you're going through, your sense of loss. It makes sense, darling. You miss him. I was a widow too, remember?"

Rose blinked, started at the comparison and opened her mouth to deny such a view of their relationship, but then stopped herself. No need to pretend anymore.

"It hurts, I know," Jackie went on. "Just because he's gone physically doesn't mean your love for each other is gone though. Let the memories give you strength, but Rose, that's all they are now: memories. You can't live on them. They won't grow or change or hold you, believe me, I held onto mine for years. It's okay to be sad, to hold onto his memory, but sweetheart you can't live in the past. I had to say goodbye to your father too, or I would have gone bonkers."

"Yeah, but Dad was dead," Rose's eyes darted around as if she were afraid this version of her father, the one who was very much alive and slightly uncomfortable by discussions of his alternate self dying, was going to appear at any moment. "You knew you'd never see him again. The Doctor's still out there."

"The Doctor said himself that you'd never see him again."

"Maybe he was wrong." Rose could hear the twinge of desperation in her voice and looked away from the empathy in her mother's eyes.

"You told me he's never wrong about things like that," Mickey's voice boomed into the room before he appeared and Rose turned to look at him. He stared back at her, his face serious. There was something of Ricky about him now. Time passed faster here and he had hardened in their time apart. Gone were his soft edges and the uncertainty that had often clung to him. He wasn't as abrasive as she remembered Ricky to be, but he was no longer as open and softhearted, his sentiment replaced by a confidence born of experience and independence. She had been surprised by the difference in him at first, at the realization that he was a kind of hybrid between the boy who had once begged her to stay and the man who fought for humanity. It was not a bad effect, but something that Rose was not quite used to; it had caused a slight distance between them, the rift barely noticeable except in tiny moments where she would hesitate to bump his shoulder or the air would become heavy with the absence of a joke he would have once made.

The look he was giving her now screamed of Ricky and she bristled. "Well this time, he is wrong."

"You actually believe that? That he can get back to you?"

"No," she faltered. "No…because if there were a way to get back to me he would have by now. But maybe I can get back to him!"

"No, Rose. This isn't healthy," Jackie spoke slowly, as if she were afraid Rose was about to lose it.

"You have to accept the fact that you'll never see the Doctor again!" Mickeys' voice was beginning to rise. Rose resisted the urge to scream. She got up to leave.

"Rose," her mother reached for her but Rose moved away.

"You don't understand! No one understands! I can do it, I can figure out a way to get back to him."

"What time travel? Don't be stupid. You're just a human, Rose, as disgusting as that may be to you now." Rose glared at him. Mickey had been so quiet, so understanding since she had arrived, smiling and nodding when she'd turned down his advances. Where was this coming from? It was as if he had hit a switch and suddenly all his compassion was gone, replaced by a bitter contempt he was barely attempting to conceal.

"You think he'd want to see you like this?" Mickey took a step closer to her, his finger in her face. "No. He'd want you to move on, he would. Obsessing over time travel? For Christ's sake Rose, you're crazy!"

Rose froze by the doorway and turned to face both of them, her mother and Mickey, their faces solemn. Jackie's was full of concern and understanding, eyes brimming with empathetic tears. '_I'm like a widow,'_ Rose thought suddenly.

"Rose," Mickey's face was less understanding, his mouth a thin line, his skin tight with frustration. "Wake up. He's gone, forever."

Rose left them then, angry, hurt tears streaming down her face. A part of her knew that they were right, but if there were a chance she could get back to the Doctor she had to take it. Didn't they understand that she had to at least try? That he would do the same for her? She reached her room and threw herself on the bed, burying her face in a pillow. She allowed herself to sob openly and bitterly, the sound muffled by the cushion. She cried for a long time, uncertain if she was so heartsick because they wanted her to be someone she was not or because she could not make herself become that person. They left her alone and she was glad for that; the only person who she wanted near her was beyond her reach.

* * *

><p>The knock on her door came later than she expected; perhaps he had finally begun to realize what she'd been telling him for weeks. The door swung open to reveal his sheepish face.<p>

"I brought some wine," he held up a bottle and two glasses as if she needed proof and she couldn't help but to smile.

"Come on then," she said and moved aside to let him in the room, closing it with a soft click. Her room was dark, with only a few weakly flickering candles to illuminate it, but she made no move to make it brighter. She didn't want to be in the light right now. Mickey turned to face her, clenching the bottle awkwardly.

"Hey," he whispered and she smiled again.

"Hey," she echoed, her voice as hushed as his. Although the house was empty aside from them, the darkness of the hour seemed to require low voices.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said."

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow and took the bottle from him, pouring it into the glasses.

"Well," Mickey looked dumbfounded, accepting the glass from her with a slight hesitation. "Well, no. I meant what I said. I guess I'm sorry for the way I said it. I mean, I don't think you're crazy, Rose."

"Thanks, I'm not so sure though." She tucked some hair behind her ear and offered him a shrug.

"You're not," he reassured her. "You just need to stop thinking about it so much."

She sat on her bed, crossing her legs beneath her and making room for him to sit as well. "What should I think about instead?"

"Well you could think about all the progress you've made at work." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously! That's all I ever hear about from Hank. That Rose Tyler, she's really moving things along, reorganizing the categorization system, identifying new alien remains, looking sexy in her tight black pants-"

"Mickey!" Rose burst out laughing and he beamed back at her.

"All right, that last bit was me, but the rest was him. Honestly, it gets annoying. You're all he ever wants to talk about."

"How horrible for you."

"Yeah, it is!" His eyes widened at her expression. "It _is_! I have half a mind to knock him out next time he starts going on about you. All I've gotta do is get his pressure points," he held out a hand and demonstrated lightly on her neck. "I know how to do that, you know."

"Yes I know!" She teased. "Because you're such a big strong man now."

"I always was a big strong man, you just didn't realize it."

"I did," she protested.

"Nah you didn't," he drained his glass and refilled it, making a face at the empty bottle. "You thought I was a pussy."

"What? No!"

"Yeah you did. And that's okay, I was one. But I'm not anymore, am I?

"You never were. And if we're being honest here, it wouldn't hurt you to let some of the old Mickey in more often!" He looked bemused. "I'm serious! Your tough guy act gets a little old." She put her hands on her hips and straightened her spine, attempting to deepen her voice. "I'm Mickey Smith and I don't take no shit from nobody! I'm so tough, I ain't afraid of no aliens!"

He laughed and tossed a pillow at her. "Well it gets the job done doesn't it? I get respect now."

"You always got respect."

"Well it's nice not being the tin dog anymore."

"You were never the tin dog," she said softly.

"Yes I was," he lowered his voice as well. "But not anymore."

He leaned forward quickly, surprising her, and placed his lips against hers. His hand cupped her cheek and when she made a move to back away, she threw them off balance and they fell backward, much of his weight on top of her. She pushed at his shoulders.

"Mickey," she hissed in between his kisses.

"Rose," he moaned back.

She tried to get him off of her again and then reached around, digging her fingers into the back of his neck.

"Ow, shit! Rose!" he pulled back, hovering over her.

"Get off me," she said sharply and he scrambled off immediately. She stood and smoothed out her clothes and he sat on the bed, staring at her in bewilderment.

"What?"

"I told you no, Mickey. It's over."

"Rose…"

"No Mickey. I'm serious. I haven't changed my mind. You and I don't _work_."

His jaw clenched. "That's because you're not thinking clearly."

"No. I may be a mess about a lot of things, but I am sure about this. I have been for a long time." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "C'mon, Mickey. You don't want me. You deserve better. We aren't right for each other, you know that."

"Don't tell me what I want Rose. You and I were doing just fine before-"

"Before what?" she interrupted. "Before I realized I didn't want to be with someone who would rather watch TV and play video games than talk to me? Before I recognized that we have nothing in common and we were just convenient for each other?"

"That's not how it was!" He stood up quickly and glowered at her. "You loved me!"

"Yes, I did!" She stepped forward and put her hands on his upper arms, looking him in the eye. "I did love you, Mickey, but I was a teenager. I'm not that same little girl anymore. Same as you changed, I changed too! We were good together back then and I'll always love you, but I will never be in love with you again." He stared at her. "I'm sorry," she added because she felt cruel.

"I don't believe you," he said and she whirled around, rubbing her temple.

"Oh Mickey come on! I thought you weren't the tin dog anymore? Stop pursuing someone who doesn't want you. And think about it, you don't want me anymore either."

"No, no. It's not about us wanting each other or not, is it? It's about him." She groaned. "No, if you want to be honest, then let's be honest. This is about the Doctor, _again_."

"It's not. It's about us, growing up, growing apart."

"Really? Because we didn't seem to have grown apart every time you came home or when I was traveling on the TARDIS with you. Then we seemed pretty damn close when you would beg me to sleep with you."

"Beg you? BEG you?"

"Yeah, beg me. You weren't too good for me when you'd sneak into my room or get a hotel with me. I spent hours inside of you when he was in the picture, too preoccupied to even give you a second glance."

"Shut up."

"Now that he's gone, all of a sudden you have to honor him? Let me let you in on a little secret: he didn't want you then and he wouldn't want you now."

"Fuck you."

"Oh you have, many times remember? So tell me why was it that you always came crawling back? After all those travels with him, seeing all those alien planets, you always returned to old Mickey, dripping for me. Why was that if it wasn't love?"

"Because you were safe!" She snapped. "Because I almost died so many times and I was so scared and tense and yes, I wanted sex and I knew if I slept with you I would be safe."

"Safe from what?"

"From falling in love." Her words hung between them.

"So this is what it all comes down to, what it always comes down to: him. He's still running your life from a universe away!"

"No-"

"Tell me, tell me, if he had never shown up in that fucking blue box and taken you away what would we be doing now? Huh?"

"I don't-"

"Huh?"

"I can't know that!"

"Now you're lying to yourself. We'd still be in love, married, making babies. I would have made you happy! He ruined your life! He ruined both our lives!"

"No! He gave me my life!"

"Gave you your…gave you. Dammit, Rose! When are you going to wake up? He didn't give a shit about you! You were just another in a long line! He's probably out there right now traveling with another woman. He won't have any trouble replacing you."

She slapped him, hard, barely conscious that she was doing it.

"You don't know anything about us, Mickey! I love him!"

He was breathing hard, chest heaving. He swiped the back of his hand against his mouth.

"Did you fuck him?"

She stared at him, rage and indignation swelling in her. She chuckled bitterly and shook her head. "Fuck you, Mickey." She turned to go and he stormed into her space until she was backed against the wall, his body trapping her. She shoved at his chest to no avail. "What the hell are you doing? Move!" She pushed at him again but he ignored her, his eyes dark and unrecognizable. He looked down at her, inches from her face. His breath rushed against her skin, carrying the stench of alcohol.

"Did. You. Fuck. The. Doctor." When she shoved at him again, he snatched her arms and yanked them up and against the wall, one wrist in each of his large hands, so she arched against him and cried out in pain and surprise. "Did you fuck him?" He gritted out.

Rose's chest was pressed against his, both of them panting. She looked up at him, eyes defiant. "No," she spat out.

"Did you want to?"

She wriggled in his grasp, her arms crying out from the strain of being stretched so far above her head, but his fingers tightened brutally on her flesh.

"Yes!" She roared, bringing her face closer to his, invading his space as much as he had invaded her own. She wanted to hit him again, to scratch him, make him bleed. They were nose to nose; inhaling each other's spent air so that she began to feel lightheaded. It didn't matter, the alcohol and fury were buzzing in her head, taking up all the room.

"Yes! Yes, I wanted to! I still want to! When I touch myself that's what I think about! His cock inside of me, fucking me, making me scream his name!"

After her shrieks, the air in the room felt thick and heavy, the quiet hung around them, crackling with anger. The only noise was the sound of their heavy breathing. Mickey's lip curled in disgust. His fingers clenched and lifted, forcing Rose to rise to her toes, yelping and tossing her head back against his touch. Her eyes shuttered closed. Mickey eliminated the distance between them, holding his body flush against hers so she could feel his arousal against her hip. She whimpered. His head snuggled the space between her shoulder and jaw in a touch that could almost be considered tender. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her collarbone and dragged it up her neck. He sucked in her earlobe and then pulled back, biting the skin of her neck so hard she was sure he had drawn blood. His breath was warm and wet against her. Every inch of them was touching. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

"I'm here and he's not," he growled against the shell of her ear and she shivered at the sound of his voice, animalistic and carnal. "At some point you better wake up and realize that or you'll end up alone forever."

The absence of his body was so sudden, she almost fell. The heat that had nestled her being suddenly assaulted by a whoosh of cold, empty air. She didn't hear him leave, the thundering drum of her heart the only sound in her ears. Her wrists ached. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was alone. The room was silent and dark.

She slid down the wall and lay in a crumbled heap on the floor. Numbly, without thought, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the stolen snapshot she carried with her at all times. It was bent and tattered, the image faded from overexposure. She did not cry or make a sound. She simply stared at the picture and traced a finger over the worn and familiar path, imagining that it was his face, that he was here and that she was not utterly alone and crazy.

"Doctor," she whispered, but he did not answer.


End file.
